


CAUSE SOME TROUBLE

by AyalaAtreides



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Brainwashing, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Dorks in Love, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Government Conspiracy, Minor Canonical Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8280127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyalaAtreides/pseuds/AyalaAtreides
Summary: Exiled and traveling in disguise, Earth King Kuei had no idea what he was getting himself into. He certainly didn't expect to befriend some Sandbenders or start any uprisings, but here he is- and that's not even the strangest part of it. The War is about to end and Ba Sing Se's future is at stake... but the road to redemption will be a dangerous one. Kuei/OC.





	1. The King in Exile

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! Finally bringing this over to AO3. It's been on FFnet since 2009 and is now being rewritten, so I figured now was a good time to have it migrate here as well! Now, about the fic itself... see, I love minor characters. It happens in every fandom I get into. Specifically, I love minor characters with untold stories. And, like... Earth King Kuei has never been outside the damn palace, he says so in Book 2. No king of Ba Sing Se has even been to the Outer Wall, like, seriously? And now we're gonna take this dorky string bean who has never left the palace and toss him into the wilderness with only a bear for company??? And you're not gonna tell me in canon what happens to him while he's gone?? Clearly this story had to be told. No one else was telling it, so I had to. I hope y'all like minor characters and OCs because that's what you're getting, ayyy lmao. Let's roll.

**CHAPTER ONE- THE KING IN EXILE**

_**One week after the fall of Ba Sing Se** _

It had seemed like such a simple idea at the time. Strike out on his own, travel the world in disguise, see what life was like outside the palace walls. No Dai Li watching his every move, no Long Feng whispering poisonous lies in his ear and keeping him distracted from reality with frivolities—just Kuei and Bosco, off on a marvelous adventure, learning all he'd ever wanted to know about life outside Ba Sing Se's walls.

But he hadn't realized that life with no limits would be so… complicated. He hadn't taken any money with him, for one thing. He hadn't brought any supplies, either; he'd tried with some limited success to teach himself hunting and fishing, but neither he nor Bosco could quite get the hang of it. Luckily, he'd managed to sell a few of the larger fish he'd caught, and that was enough to keep a few coins in his pocket as they went along. All in all, this was proving to be more of an ordeal than he'd planned for. He was hungry, exhausted, smelly, sore, and he had an increasingly ragged beard growing in.

And all of that was nothing compared to the shame of having fled like a mouse from a cat owl while the Fire Nation brought the last great stronghold of the Earth Kingdom to its knees. But at least, he thought sourly, he had the freedom he'd always craved.

And so it was that Kuei, the 52nd Earth King of Ba Sing Se, found himself seated at a rickety wooden table in the cantina at the Misty Palms Oasis, located on the edge of the vast and deadly Si Wong Desert. An empty ice-cup sat in front of him, its sides and bottom stained pale orange from the drink he'd purchased at the bar with the last of his money; perhaps it would've been wiser to hang on to those final few coins, but he'd made it this far without getting himself killed and felt he ought to celebrate.

Visiting an oasis—now _there_ was another thing that had sounded quite simple. When he'd arrived, however, he'd discovered it to be quite different than expected. It wasn't misty, there weren't many palm trees, and indeed the only shade to be found was in the suspicious glances thrown his way by the locals. Still, ever the optimist, Kuei was determined to enjoy his stay, a task he felt would have been substantially easier if he could just shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

A dark shape appeared suddenly in the corner of his eye and perched on the table's edge beside him, and he jumped so sharply that he dislodged his glasses. He hastily adjusted the round lenses and leaned back in his chair to get a look at this apparition. The new arrival was obviously a Sandbender—that much was clear from the shabby, sand-colored clothes, heavily layered arm and leg wraps, and headscarves, the standard garb of all the locals. Then the person leaned in close and spoke in a low, rich voice that sounded like it might be feminine.

"Keep your voice down and don't look about. There are three men in the corner who've been watching you since you came in," she whispered, her voice muffled by the beige scarves that covered all but her warm, dark brown eyes.

"I-I beg your pardon? Watching _me_?" he sputtered. His mind flooded with images of Fire Nation assassins, sinister creatures bristling with all manner of unpleasantly pointy objects.

"Friends of yours?" she deadpanned. Kuei frowned and scratched at the tangled beard on his chin.

"Well, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be—" he started, but she held up a cloth-bundled hand to stop him.

"I was being sarcastic. Damned tourists." She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head pityingly, then glanced past him, presumably to where the three men were. "Oh, here they come! Watch this, it's gonna be _hilarious_."

"Oh?" Kuei remarked nervously. He wasn't sure how she could possibly sound so enthusiastic about this situation. He shot an anxious look over his shoulder and received a solid cuff upside the head from the Sandbender woman's heavily wrapped right hand.

"Didn't I just say not to look? I know these guys, let me handle this," she said in an undertone. Her eyes darted up, looking behind Kuei, and she raised her voice slightly as she added, "They're not as tough as they look."

"You think so, huh?" said a sneering voice behind him. Kuei snuck another glance over his shoulder and saw three more Sandbenders. Two of them had their faces exposed; the one in front was young and clean-shaven, and the other was older and had a thick beard and moustache. Both were scowling fiercely. Kuei grimaced and sank down into his chair. The girl, however, seemed thoroughly unimpressed.

"Afternoon, Ghashiun," the woman replied. "You seem a little tense today! Is something wrong?" Ghashiun's scowl deepened more than Kuei thought was physically possible.

"You tell me. What, you hanging out with tourists now, huh, Zafirah?" he asked coldly. Kuei tried not to sink any further in his seat, feeling as though he'd been plopped down in the middle of something bad.

"Oh, you know me," Zafirah said brightly. "I just _love_ tourists! They're so entertaining!" She reached over and lightly flicked Kuei's ear; he ducked his head, startled.

"I, uh, I should be going," Kuei said quickly, trying to keep his tone light and unconcerned. "You two obviously have a lot to talk about, I wouldn't want to interfere!" He pushed his chair back and stood—right onto the third Sandbender's foot. The man shouted in pain, then snarled and grabbed the front of Kuei's shirt, throwing him back against the table. The brittle wood creaked from the impact and he collided with Zafirah, who elbowed him in the side.

"You just don't listen, do you?" she hissed. "I told you to _let me handle this_." She jerked her thumb at the angry young man in front of them, raising her voice. "Just ignore him, he's been acting like more of a jerk than usual every since he got in trouble for stealing the Avatar's Sky Bison." Kuei looked sharply at the Sandbender boy, a spike of anger pushing through the fear.

"Wait, that was _you_?!" he demanded. All four Sandbenders stared at him, as surprised by his outburst as he was.

"What would _you_ know about it?" asked the third Sandbender suspiciously. Kuei swore inwardly and scrambled to cover up his slip. That flash of boldness was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Well, uh, you see," he sputtered, "I had the good fortune to meet the A-avatar on my travels. Naturally, I was curious about the, um, about the Sky Bison, never having seen one before, so I asked him some questions about it, and, uh, he—"

And then Zafirah lunged forward, shoving past him, and drove a solid right hook into Ghashiun's chin. Kuei's jaw dropped as the Sandbender man stumbled back with a pained howl. The other unmasked Sandbender swore and leaped at her—but she deftly twisted to the side and he staggered by, slamming into the table. The man pushed off of it and whirled to face her, sweeping his left hand up. Zafirah dodged the blast of sand that flew at her, but the man's right hand brought another hail of sand that flew right through the gap in the cloth covering her face.

She yowled and clasped her left hand over her eyes, then jerked her right fist towards her waist; the sand shifted under the man and he toppled backwards as though a rug had been pulled from beneath his feet. Zafirah spun to face Kuei, eyes red and watery, but crinkled in the corners—almost like she were smiling beneath her headscarves.

"Time to go!" Zafirah told him with what Kuei felt to be a rather inappropriate amount of glee given the circumstances. She seized his arm and hauled him towards the exit, right past the third masked Sandbender. Kuei braced himself for a last-minute attack but the man just stared dispassionately at them as they passed, arms crossed over his broad chest. The rest of the cantina's clientele barely looked up from their drinks as the two made their escape through the curtained doorway. Tavern brawls were clearly not a noteworthy occurrence at the Misty Palms Oasis.

The air outside the cantina felt heavy with the stifling heat of early evening in the desert. Zafirah slowed to a walk as she dropped Kuei's arm and rubbed the sand from her eyes, then laughed when she saw the dismayed look on his face. His heart was hammering and he probably looked as rattled as he felt.

"Oh, calm down! That was hardly even a fight. And you made it out in one piece, didn't you?" She winked at him, then turned and started to walk away from the cantina, lifting one hand in a casual wave. "Well, that was fun. Bye, now!" It took a moment for Kuei to recover his wits, and he suddenly recalled how the fight had started— those men had been watching him, surely they would have done something to him if she hadn't intervened. He ought to express his gratitude, then!

"Wait one moment, please!" he called, hurrying after her. She glanced sideways as he caught up, but didn't slow her pace.

"Are you following me?" she asked flatly. Her fingers flexed and he could see the sand around her feet swirl to life.

"Wha-no, no!" he exclaimed, halting in his tracks. "I just... wanted to thank you for helping me. You said they were watching me, didn't you? Whatever they were plotting, I would have fallen right into it. I don't even know what they wanted from me."

"Huh?" She cocked her head, then chortled and said, "Oh, I didn't do it to be helpful! I mainly just wanted to piss 'em off! I told ya it was gonna be hilarious, didn't it? Man, the look on Ghashiun's face!" She put her fists on her hips and shook her head, chuckling.

"Ah, I… oh," he said, taken aback. "Well, um, even so, thank you for stepping in. What would they have done to me?" He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know, but he couldn't help wondering.

"Not a whole lot. Ghashiun's an idiot but he's not dumb enough to go 'round killing random guys. They'd have just robbed you, maybe roughed you up a bit, maybe with an emphasis on the roughing-up if you didn't have much money on you," she told him with a casual wave of her hand.

"Oh!" He blanched at the thought. "I, uh, I don't have any money for them to rob me of, so I suppose I ought to thank you for sparing me a good deal of pain. Won't that man and his, uh, _associates_ come after you now? I assume they'll want revenge of some sort."

"Pffft, no way! He knows he'd get stomped into the dirt if he tried it," she replied, chortling. "This isn't the first time we've scuffled and it sure won't be the last."

"Ah, so it's a… a rivalry, then?" he ventured, smiling slightly in relief. He was worried he'd caused some sort of feud somehow.

"Hah, yeah, something like that. My getting involved probably made it worse, actually," she added apologetically. "I just can't pass up an opportunity to piss that guy off."

"Oh," he said, unsure what to say to that. Bosco, who had been resting near the depleted iceberg at the center of the oasis, spotted his master and lumbered over. Zafirah shrieked and jumped behind Kuei. "Oh, don't worry! That's just Bosco, my pet bear," he said, beaming. She stepped out from behind him, sniffing and straightening her headscarves, trying to recover her dignity.

"Pet bear?" she echoed, then scoffed disdainfully. " _Tourists_." She turned and started to walk off again.

"Wait! Is there an inn here, someplace I can sleep?" he called after her.

"Yeah, but it costs money, which you just said you don't have, and I'm pretty sure they don't allow… _those_ ," she said, eying Bosco distastefully. She paused, considering, then spoke again. "What's your name, tourist?"

"Oh, uh… I'm Kuei," he told her. His given name sounded unfamiliar in his own ears. It felt like he was introducing a stranger. He bowed—he was in the presence of a lady, after all—eliciting a disbelieving snort from his peculiar rescuer. "And your name is Zafirah?"

"That's me." She fell silent for a long moment, during which she studied him intently. He shifted from foot to foot, starting to feel quite exposed. Finally, she heaved a sigh— more of a groan, really— and shook her head. "Well, Kuei, I've got a perfectly good floor you can sleep on if that suits you." He blinked at her, thoroughly taken by surprise.

"A—a floor?" He echoed. "That is, a floor in _your_ home?"

She snorted. "Well, it's not like I own a lot of floors, so yeah. In my home."

Almost without realizing it he took a half step backward. "W-well, I, that's very—I don't know quite what to say—" he stammered.

"Do you want the floor or not? Yes or no, pick fast. I don't much like tourists, to be honest, and my generous moods don't last long," she said impatiently. He'd never slept in a stranger's home before and he was quite disconcerted by her sharp words, but it would certainly be a nice change from sleeping outside in the dirt.

"Yes, please. Thank you, that's... very generous of you," he said, flummoxed.

"All right, then, just follow me and, uh… try not to be too awkward in front of my neighbors," she said with a slight wince. She turned and set off at a brisk pace without another word, or even checking to see if he was behind her. It didn't take long to get there; the oasis was a very small settlement, little more than several clusters of squat, domed huts of hard-packed earth and wood frames, all forming a rough circle around the iceberg and enclosed by a low wall.

As they walked, they passed a tall, thin woman exiting her hut. As she ducked out of the doorway, she spotted Zafirah and waved to her. A smile creased her weathered face, left uncovered for the moment.

"Zafirah, good afternoon!" she called. Zafirah froze for a second and then slowly turned towards the woman, laughing weakly.

"Hey there, Sefa," she said, clearing her throat. "Weather's not bad today, huh?"

"Not bad, indeed! Better now that it's nearly sunset," the older woman agreed. "Got a guest today?" She nodded to Kuei.

Zafirah laughed half-heartedly. "I'm just taking in a stray overnight, that's all. You know me, too damn nice for my own good!" She held her hands up in a helpless gesture and chuckled uncomfortably again.

Kuei, behind her, gaped in surprise at her. A stray? To be sure, he probably looked like one, but that seemed a bit harsh to say right in front of him.

Sefa bid them a good evening and went on her way. Once the woman was a couple paces away, Zafirah let out a breath and shook her head, then waved wordlessly to him and moved on. He followed, although a bit more reluctantly than before.

Zafirah's hut was nestled in a cluster next to the main gate. As he followed her through the curtained doorway, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. But once they had, he saw rough-hewn wooden shelves lining the walls of the single room they stood in, and all of them laden with odds and ends of all types—swords, knives, pottery, hats, and an endless variety of other things. Weapons seemed to dominate the selection though, in all types and sizes. A woven reed chair stood near the back, next to a worktable strewn with jars and rags.

"Do you… make weapons?" he guessed, amazed.

"Nope. Buy, sell, and trade 'em—among other things," she said. She barely even slowed her stride as she hurried across the small room. When she reached a second curtain at the back of the room, she paused and looked back at him. "By the way, please leave that beast up here," she added, shooting a wary glance at Bosco.

"Ah—um…" He hesitated, glancing at his pet. Bosco looked up at him and whined.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine," she told him. "No one's gonna come in here without asking, he'll be left alone."

"Oh, I wasn't worried that he'd be attacked!" Kuei assured her—although the thought _had_ crossed his mind, having found out that the very man who'd stolen Appa was here. "It's just that, you see, he gets very anxious if he's left on his own for too long…"

Zafirah's brown eyes were wide with incredulity behind her headscarves. "You don't say," she remarked flatly. "Well, think of it as a chance for him to learn a little independence. You coming or not? I've still got half a mind to take back that invitation." With that, she turned and swept through the curtain. He couldn't help but pause for a moment. He certainly wasn't accustomed to being spoken to so bluntly! It had him off balance, to say the least.

Still, it wasn't as if he had anywhere else to go. This was the first time a stranger had ever invited him into their home, and he was reluctant to turn down such a generous offer, even if his host was rather harsh. Besides, surely she couldn't be _that_ mean of a person, if she was willing to take a ragged-looking wanderer like himself into her own house.

So he crossed the shop room and pushed through the tattered curtain at the back, finding that it led to a narrow alcove that had a ladder going down through a hole in the floor. He followed her down the crudely made wooden ladder and into a musty, lantern-lit basement.

It was small room, not much larger than the shop above it. The corner to the right of the ladder held a modest kitchen. A fireplace sat nestled in the back of the kitchen, beneath a chimney that led up through the top of the hut. Next to it stood a battered old table, solidly built, its surface stacked with spice jars and burlap bags. A few crates were stacked up beside the table. A rickety wooden cabinet leaned against the wall on the other side of the fireplace; its doors were ajar and Kuei could see a few mismatched plates and bowls piled inside it.

In the opposite corner of the room was a space that had been curtained off, though he could see a mattress on the floor through a gap between the two curtains hung across it. Next to that corner was a mattress on the floor, heaped with blankets and tattered pillows. A well-worn rug covered the middle of the room, along with some cushions to sit on.

"So, this is it. Welcome to the cave," Zafirah joked, spreading her hands to encompass the space, although there was an odd undertone in her voice—a defiant tone, almost.

"It's very pleasant," he said, looking around and smiling. And it really was—it had a warm feeling to it that went beyond the stuffy heat of the desert.

Zafirah eyed him for a moment, then shrugged and ambled away. She reached up and tugged at the back of her headscarves, unwrapping them with well-practiced swiftness. Once the last layer had come loose, she yanked them off and tossed them into a woven basket beside the ladder, shaking her head and huffing out a sigh of relief.

For some reason, he'd half expected her to be older than he was, yet she actually looked like she was around his age, perhaps slightly younger. Shorter locks of dark brown hair had escaped from the confines of a long, thick braid, framing her copper-toned face and high cheekbones. She pulled the braid forward over her shoulder, tightening the green string tying off its end.

Flicking her braid back behind her, she turned to face him and put her fists on her hips. "I'm not running a restaurant here. You help when I tell you to, got it?"

"Of course," he agreed quickly, still considerably confused by her harshness. She studied him again for just a moment, and then nodded slightly and sauntered over to the kitchen, stretching her arms above her head.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starved," she said as she grabbed some sticks from a basket and stuck them beneath a rough iron pot hanging in the fireplace. "Would you light that up while I get some things from the pantry?" she asked, pointing absently at a pair of spark rocks on the counter next to the firewood basket. Not bothering to wait for an answer, she swept off through a narrow doorway to the left of the kitchen.

Fortunately, he'd learned how to use spark rocks during his stay with the Avatar's friends, and thus he was spared the embarrassment of his host thinking him to be totally useless. Grabbing the spark rocks, he knelt down by the fireplace and piled up some kindling just as Sokka had shown him, carefully striking the spark rocks to get a blaze going.

A sudden movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention; he looked up, expecting to see Zafirah, but instead he saw a nearly naked man staggering upward from beneath the pile of blankets across the room. Kuei wasn't sure which of them was more startled. The man blinked owlishly from behind a curtain of below-shoulder-length brown hair hanging loose around his face. He took an unsteady Bending stance and Kuei braced himself for an attack—but the man only succeeded in raising a small cloud of dust that promptly flew up into his own face. As he coughed and shook his head, Zafirah emerged from the pantry, lugging two canvas sacks. She chuckled dryly as she walked back to the kitchen.

"Oh, good, now we're all here. Cozy, right?" she jibed.

"Zafi! There's a thief in our house!" rasped the man, slurring his words.

"That's not a thief, that's a guest, so will you please put on some pants?" she demanded.

"But I _am_ wearing pants, Zafi!" he insisted, hurt. Zafirah cleared her throat and looked pointedly downward. The man followed her gaze to his bare legs and gaped in surprise.

"Ohhhhh," he said slowly. He stumbled back into the heap and dug around slowly amidst the blankets for a minute before apparently giving up and flopping back down. Zafirah strode over to the fireplace and dumped the sacks on the ground.

"My twin brother, Basam. He's maybe just a little bit hung-over," she explained wryly. Then she pulled a waterskin from a hook on the wall and emptied its contents into the pot. Kuei hovered a couple feet behind her, tapping his fingertips together as if attempting to magically summon a way to be helpful. People weren't his strongest area of expertise; there was already a certain level of personal detachment that came with ascending to the throne, and with Long Feng meticulously excluding him from matters of state, Kuei had been left with few chances for human interaction. He wasn't even allowed to show his face or speak with guests at the fancy parties he'd hosted! He'd had a veritable army of tutors in every academic subject imaginable, and he considered himself a very knowledgeable man- but when it came to people, and especially the art of conversation, he was in the dark.

"So… your family sells and trades, um… quite a lot of different things," he remarked. "How's the business going these days?"

"Could be better—a lot better," she said bluntly. "Amazing how a hundred-year war can put your trade routes down, right?"

"Ah—yes, of course," he agreed, wincing. All right, that hadn't been the wisest choice of topic. Trying again, he asked, "What are you making?" Kuei asked. Zafirah shrugged carelessly and began pouring lentils from one sack into the pot.

Basam shuffled over and stood next to Kuei, much too close for comfort, eyes narrowed and rubbing his stubbly chin pensively. Kuei shifted awkwardly, coughing slightly. At this range, Kuei could clearly see the resemblance between this man and Zafirah—the same brown eyes and high cheekbones, the same angle to their eyebrows. He had the kind of lean, angular build that suggested a history of scarce meals and daily physical labor.

"I still say he looks like a thief," Basam pronounced. Zafirah snatched a stick of firewood from the basket and threw it at him. Basam leaned out of the way and stumbled to the side.

" _Basam_. Pants!" she commanded.

He huffed irritably. "Be reasonable, Zafirah. Why in the Spirit World would I put on _two_ pairs of pants?"

"I don't know, Basam, why don't you put on _one_ pair to start with, and find out?" she growled. He looked down and was once again surprised. His pride bruised, he stared imperiously at his sister and then shuffled back to the bed.

"Fine, then! I'll do that, and you see to the thief."

"Oh, please. If he's a thief, then I'm the Avatar!" she retorted. Pausing, she considered it and added to Kuei, "Speaking of which, that was a decent diversion back there." She opened another sack and added rice to the pot, then took two big fistfuls of dried pig-chicken meat from a crate near the fireplace and added that as well.

"Diversion?" he asked, confused.

"The story about meeting the Avatar and knowing about his Sky Bison," she explained.

"I really did meet him, though," Kuei insisted. _Met him, failed him, and saw his lightning-struck corpse revived by Spirit-blessed water._ He didn't think it wise to mention all of that, though.

"Uh huh. Well, hey, at least you made an effort. Next time ya find yourself in a tavern brawl, maybe you'll even get to do some actual fighting," she joked. Well, if she thought he'd done it intentionally, he certainly wasn't about to disabuse her of that notion.

"Thank you, I do try," he said.

"Grab that, will ya?" she asked. She pointed to a small wooden box on the table and Kuei hurriedly retrieved it. She took it from his hands and lifted the lid; it was a spice box, judging by the earthy-toned powders inside and the rich aroma that wafted up from it. She threw several pinches of different herbs into the pot, then set it aside and grabbed a long, wooden spoon from the table and stirred the pot's contents, humming off-key as she worked. It wasn't long before a savory scent began rising from the stew.

"So what brings you to the lovely oasis of the Janan tribe?" she asked, more than a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

"I live here!" Basam exclaimed indignantly. He had found his clothes amid the blankets and was hopping precariously on one foot as he attempted to pull his pants on.

"Not you! I was talking to our guest," she growled. Basam wobbled and fell back into the heap of blankets.

After a moment's hesitation, Kuei replied, "I… saw it on my map and thought it seemed like a nice place to visit."

"Must be an old map," Zafirah replied with a crooked smirk.

"I—I really couldn't say," Kuei said, neither wanting to agree nor disagree with that. The Oasis wasn't quite the lush jewel of incomparable beauty that his history books had described it as, but he didn't want his host to think that he was speaking ill of her home, either. Even though she spoke of the place in somewhat self-deprecating tones, he had a feeling that a stranger bad-mouthing the place wouldn't be quite the same. Even he could sense that much. Then again, it was almost as if she were inviting him to make that very mistake with her sarcasm. His host was a prickly one, indeed— although he noted that she seemed slightly more relaxed now than she had been before. Perhaps the prospect of an imminent meal was putting her in a better mood.

Silence settled over the room, broken only by the scrape of the spoon against the sides of the pot. Eventually, Zafirah lifted the spoon to her lips and sampled its contents, then nodded to herself, satisfied. She hefted an iron lid and set it in place atop the pot, then sat back on her heels. "Now we let that cook for a while. I guess that monster of yours needs food too, huh. What's that thing eat, anyway?"

"Meat, usually," he said. She grabbed a fistful of dried pig-chicken and handed it to him, and he headed back up the ladder. Bosco looked up and growled mournfully as Kuei entered the shop. He knelt beside his pet and scratched behind the bear's ears.

"I'm sorry I have to leave you up here alone, my friend," he said as he placed a pile of the meat in front of Bosco's snout. When he returned to the basement, Zafirah waved in the direction of another curtained alcove beside the pantry.

"The washroom's through there if you want to get cleaned up at all," she told him. "Maybe scrape some of that dirt off your face?"

"Thank you, I would like that." He rubbed absently at his chin and frowned. "Does your brother have a spare razor I might borrow?"

"Nah, just use his." She shot a look at Basam's immobile form in the corner. "It's not like he's in any condition to argue!" she added in a raised voice. When this failed to get a reaction, she rolled her eyes and lifted the pot's lid to stir again.

The washroom was a cramped space with a metal basin beneath a dingy, cracked mirror. He noticed with some surprise that there was a water pump beside the basin stand. Kuei winced slightly as he caught his reflection in the mirror. His face was dirtier than he'd realized and covered in scratches from where he'd stumbled into a patch of brambles a few days earlier. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and that beard was really quite awful. He found a shaving kit wrapped in tattered leather on a shelf cut into the wall beside the mirror and set about returning himself to something approximating a civilized state. When he emerged from the washroom, satisfied that he was as clean as he was going to get without an actual bath, their supper had finished cooking and Zafirah was rummaging around in the wooden cabinet near the fireplace.

"Bowls, bowls, where are the Spirits-be-damned— aha!" She spun around triumphantly with a stack of misshapen metal bowls held high in one hand. Upon spotting him, she paused for a moment as her right eyebrow quirked upward slightly. Then she waved him over and shoved a bowl into his hands, gesturing to the iron pot. "Go ahead. I said I wasn't running a restaurant!" She plunked herself down beside the fire and ladled some of the stew into her own bowl. He settled in next to her and took the ladle after her.

"Zafirah, may I ask how the water pump in the washroom works?" he asked.

"Absolutely not." She paused, then smirked at his obvious shock. "Relax, I'm just teasing you! Spirits, you're such an easy mark it's not even _fun_."

"Ah", he said, unsure of how to take that statement. People didn't generally tease the Earth King, after all. His host was more relaxed now, but still shockingly forthright!

"Anyway, sure you can ask," she said. "There's a water tank behind the wall in there. Every few weeks we fill it with our allotment of melted-down water from the iceberg. It may look like there isn't much of it, but it's huge underground. And since there's so few of us living here, we all get to use it. Not very much, of course, so we have to make do. Like, we scrub food scraps off of plates and stuff with sand, then use a tiny little bit of water to wipe out the sand."

"Ah." Kuei couldn't help but glance dubiously at the bowl in his hands.

"Yeah, it's not too fancy. Nothing like what you're probably used to, living in…" She paused again, scrutinized him through narrowed eyes, and smirked. "Ba Sing Se?" Kuei managed not to choke on a mouthful of stew.

"H-how did you…?" he sputtered, his heartbeat spiking in sudden alarm.

"We get folks from all over the place," she said smugly. "You spend enough time watching people, you start to see all these little things that give away a person's story. You can see it in the way they talk—different cities have different accents, you know."

Kuei considered that, tilting his head. It hadn't even occurred to him that he had an accent!

"So then, you could determine my heritage based on my accent?" he asked, astounded.

"Yeah, but there's way more than that," she said. "The way folks carry themselves? Man, it's kinda sad how easy it is to spot the rich noble types. Like you, for example: here you are, sitting on the ground, and your back's as straight as a reed." Kuei slouched self-consciously, and a ghost of a smile flitted across Zafirah's face before she went on. "I can tell you're probably fancy and from a big city, and there aren't a whole lot of those. Gaoling, Omashu, Ba Sing Se… that's pretty much it. Your accent is sort of like other Ba Sing Se folks that've passed through, so I figured I had a one-in-three shot at guessing right."

"You certainly made an astute guess, then," he remarked. He decided that he ought to start paying more attention to details like those—spotting such things could prove to be a useful skill to have. And, reflecting on those he had fled from… concealing such things might prove useful, as well.

Zafirah leaned forward, tapping her lower lip contemplatively. "But I gotta say, I almost couldn't place you; there's something… odd about you."

"Odd?" he echoed in a carefully neutral tone. She couldn't possibly have guessed who he really was… could she?

"Yeah. Your accent's weird for Ba Sing Se. It's as if—" Luckily, a distraction arrived in the form of a nearly-sober and fully-dressed Basam slinking sheepishly over to the fireplace and sinking down between the two. "Feeling better, brother?" Zafirah asked dryly.

"Mmhm, gettin' there," he said with an embarrassed grin. He fished a length of green cord out of his pocket and tied his hair back at the nape of his neck, then turned to Kuei. "Hey, sorry if I—" He stopped short and squinted at their visitor, then looked over at his sister. "How many guys did you bring over tonight, anway?" he demanded.

"Just one," Zafirah replied with a bemused smile.

"Huh!" He returned his gaze to Kuei. "You don't look nearly as sketchy without that beard, y'know," Basam commented as he helped himself to a bowl of stew.

"Um, thank you," Kuei replied, although he wasn't entirely sure how much of a compliment that had really been.

Basam spoke again. "So how'd you get here all the way from Ba Sing Se? Couldn't help but overhear. Small basement, and all."

"Pure chance, I suppose," Kuei said, and that at least was true. "I picked it out on my map, as I told—"

"Yeah, heard that part. What brings you all the way out here, though?" Basam asked.

"Why am I traveling?" Kuei guessed. Basam nodded eagerly. Kuei tried to quell his surge of nervousness. He didn't want to lie, but how much of the truth did he dare tell them? "Well, to be honest, I didn't have much of a choice in the matter," he said. It wasn't untrue. Basam suddenly cringed and slapped his forehead.

"Of course, Ba Sing Se! The Fire Nation!" he groaned.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot!" Zafirah said, her smile vanishing. "You're lucky to have gotten out."

"Oh, yes, I'm certainly aware of that," he agreed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He hoped he didn't look as guilty as he felt, as he thought about the thousands of citizens trapped within the city—all the people he was responsible for, the people he'd been unable to protect. Those who hadn't been lucky enough to have the assistance of the Avatar's friends.

"How did you get away from there?" Basam asked, eyes wide.

"I… had some friends who took me out of the city with them," he said quietly. And, again, it was not untrue. "We parted ways shortly after that."

The two Sandbenders must have noticed his sudden melancholy, because they traded a grim glance and quickly changed the topic.

"Where else you been before this?" Basam asked.

"Well, I started from Chameleon Bay and I've been following the coast ever since," Kuei said, relieved.

"Yeah? I heard it's nice and green up there," Zafirah commented.

"Have either of you ever traveled outside of the desert?" Kuei inquired, although he already suspected the answer.

"Nah, not us," Zafirah confirmed. She waved a hand dismissively but he thought her tone sounded wistful as she said, "Who's got the coin for traveling, anyway?"

"It does cost more than I expected," Kuei admitted.

The conversation meandered along from there in between mouthfuls of stew. Once the three of them had finished their meal, Zafirah set Basam and Kuei to cleaning the dishes while she started a pot of water boiling for tea. With the chores done and the tea brewed, the trio returned to their seats by the fire. Zafirah lounged against the wall next to the fireplace, her expression unreadable, studying Kuei over the rim of a metal teacup as battered as the bowls they'd been eating from.

"So what're your plans? Where are you headed after this?" she asked.

"I hadn't thought that far ahead, to be entirely honest," Kuei admitted. "I suppose I'll continue traveling, or perhaps I'll try to find some work, somewhere, if anyone will have me."

"Speaking of which, I'd better be going. It's probably almost dark by now," Basam announced as he stood up.

"Sand sailer construction crew," Zafirah explained, seeing the puzzlement on Kuei's face. "That stupid beetle-breath Avatar wrecked a bunch of our tribe's sailers, so now we gotta rebuild 'em. Don't know where that tantrum-throwing little baldy expects us to get all that extra wood and sailcloth from."

"He… he did? But why would the Avatar do that?" Kuei wondered, frowning. Zafirah scowled slightly and he hastened to add, "Oh, it's not—I'm not accusing you of lying, I just don't understand…"

"He got angry at us 'cause of what Ghashiun and his guys did," Zafirah retorted. "He lost his temper. Me and Basam were there, we saw the whole thing. He accused all of us and started trashing our sailers. The boy's, what, twelve years old?" She snorted and turned her head away. "Imagine! The fate of the world in the hands of a child." Basam rolled his eyes at what was clearly a well-tread topic and quietly took his leave.

"I really don't think you're being entirely fair to the boy," Kuei protested. "He'd lost his bison, he was distraught—"

"And I really don't think it was _entirely fair_ of the boy to make our whole tribe suffer on account of one idiotic jerk," she retorted. "Half the guys in Ghashiun's gang aren't even from our tribe. Little Master Baldy very nearly stranded us in the middle of the desert. Getting stuck in the open desert means death, you understand that? _And_ he went all glowy with that Avatar power thing and would've flat-out killed us all if his little girlfriend hadn't stopped him." Kuei reeled back slightly at that— it hadn't occurred to him that the encounter had been so dangerous. And yet, he couldn't help but feel somewhat protective of the boy.

"I'm sure Aang didn't _actually_ want to kill any of you—" Kuei tried to interject, then stopped himself when he realized he'd let the name slip.

Zafirah arched an eyebrow again. "Oh, I'm fairly sure he did mean to kill us. And what's with that 'Aang' thing? You call the Avatar by his given name? You his buddy or something?"

"No, no, no, I'm—I had just heard his name mentioned before, that's all, and…" He trailed off, realizing he had dug himself into quite a deep hole. "I apologize. I didn't wish to start an argument. I had no idea that the situation had been so dire for you." And he realized now that it _would_ be quite dangerous if a young boy with Aang's level of power lost his temper in such an intense way.

She grimaced, then shook her head. "Nah, never mind that. Not your fault that you didn't know the whole story. 'Sides, a good argument can be fun sometimes, y'know?" she said, mustering a grin.

"Arguing, tavern brawls… I do believe you and I are operating under different definitions of 'fun'," Kuei sighed.

She smirked faintly at that. "Keep traveling a while longer, fancy-pants—you'll start seeing things my way."

By then, the teapot was empty and the fire had burned down to softly glowing embers. Zafirah scrubbed the teacups and pot, then left Kuei to dry them and went off to the washroom. She emerged a few minutes later, running a comb through her unbraided hair. As her eyes landed on him, though, her mood seemed to shift. Her mouth settled into a firm line, her eyebrows tugging inward slightly.

"So," she started, "I'm going to sleep now. You can borrow a blanket from Basam if you want, and sleep over there on that rug. Borrow as many as you need, he won't be back till morning. I sleep behind that curtain. With a knife."

"Oh," he said, puzzled—and then the implied threat occurred to him. Although even with the understanding that he was being warned of something, he was at a loss as to why. Did she worry he would steal something? Or…he had heard mentions in his travels of slavers capturing Sandbenders to sell in Ba Sing Se and Omashu. Could she think that he had some nefarious purpose in coming to the desert? An uneasy chill went through him at the thought.

"Um, Zafirah…" he ventured.

"Yeah?" She paused outside the curtain, still combing her hair.

"Thank you," he said. She glanced back at him out of the corner of her eye, eyebrows raised in surprise. He started to say something else but faltered under her speculative gaze, then rushed onward. "It was quite kind of you to bring a stranger into your home, you certainly didn't have to do that—and especially one that you, uh, well, you didn't seem terribly—" She cut off his increasingly nonsensical outpouring of gratitude with a raise of her hand.

" _Good night_ , Kuei," she said pointedly.

"Good night. Sleep well," he answered, somewhat relieved for the interruption. As he settled into his borrowed bed, it occurred to him that no one had ever argued with him before.

* * *

He could hear thunder in the distance. A storm was drawing near, and someone was shouting his name. The voice was familiar; he searched for it urgently. _We have to find shelter_ , he said desperately. _We have to_ — he snapped awake as something grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him into a sitting position. It was Zafirah, crouching over him with an almost palpable aura of fear about her. Her face was ashen, eyes wide.

"We're under attack! It's Firebenders!" she hissed. She let go of him so suddenly that he fell backwards onto the rug again, and she dashed away up the ladder. He watched her go, uncomprehending. Then her words sank in and his blood ran cold. He bolted up the ladder after her but froze in the doorway of the shop, rooted to the spot in horror at the sight that met him.

 _Overkill_. It was a word he'd seen in a few of the books in the royal library—an excessive amount of force dealt out in a battle, far beyond what was needed to secure a victory, beyond the line between a fair fight and outright cruelty.

Everywhere he looked, flames rose up from the oasis, searing red and orange against the cold blue-black sky. The fires raged so brightly that even the stars faded in their light. The air around him crackled and roared, the heat singed his throat as he gasped to catch his breath. And rising above the thunderous chaos of the fires… screams, cries, harsh shouts.

A group of five Fire Nation soldiers marched past him, their pointed armor nightmarish in the firelight. Standing in their path—a group of Sandbenders, huddled together but holding their ground with their arms raised in Bending stances. Kuei couldn't tear his eyes away as the soldiers descended upon the Sandbenders with massive bursts of flame. The Sandbenders retaliated, but it was over quickly… and Kuei looked away as their battle cries turned to screams of pain.

Something caught his eye, drawing his gaze upward. It hovered there in the night sky like a malevolent crimson spirit, and as he watched, the Fire Nation soldiers in the gondola beneath the floating balloon hurled a spurt of flame down towards the ground, the fire casting a nightmarish orange glow over the battle raging on the ground, through the sand and smoke in the air. Bosco lumbered over and bumped his nose against his master's hand.

"They have flying machines, Bosco," Kuei murmured numbly. "The Fire Nation has flying machines, Spirits help us…" The next blast hit beside the cantina, and in its glare he caught sight of Zafirah surrounded by Firebenders. She was silhouetted against the burning buildings of the oasis, with her long hair swinging around her as she whipped arcs of sand at her enemies, spinning and twisting amidst the armored soldiers in fluid, powerful movements. He could barely see her as she darted back and forth; she was holding them off, but they were gradually closing in on her.

And then another Fire Nation fighter crept up on the group, standing just outside the ring of soldiers that surrounded Zafirah, braced and ready to attack—waiting for a chance to catch her unaware!

"That coward, he's sneaking up on her!" Kuei exclaimed. Surrounded as she was, what if she didn't notice in time? He had to do something, he had to… _I have to help her._ This woman had gone out of her way to help him, he couldn't just stand there and do nothing. But what could he do? He clenched his fists, pulse thrumming with sudden panic, glancing around hastily for some kind of idea, anything at all… what was he even supposed to _do_?

And then the weapons lining the shelves of the shop caught his eye. The flames from outside gleamed and flickered off of exposed blades and decorated hilts. His whirling thoughts came to a halt. Oh… that was what he had to do. He, of course, had never held a weapon in his life. In all of his twenty-five years he had never once lifted his hand in violence to another human being. He'd wanted to take martial arts lessons but Long Feng had talked him out of it, insisting that peaceful things like meditation were more suited to royalty.

A blue and white club sat on the shelf directly ahead of him; it looked like something from the Water Tribes. He dashed over and snatched it off the shelf. It was heavier than he'd expected, and it looked as if it were carved from bone. His fingers felt numb as they curled around the leather-wrapped grip. His head was buzzing. There was no time to think about this. Shuffling past Bosco, he left the hut and broke into a run.

He sprinted towards the cluster of soldiers surrounding Zafirah, right towards that particular soldier—the one lying in wait. He could see the man there with his back to Kuei, through the haze, edging his way closer and raising his fists, a spark of fire appearing in front of his knuckles as he prepared to take his shot-

Kuei ran faster than he ever had in his life and yet the distance between him and the soldier seemed to shrink too slowly, as if he were in a dream. Smoke stung at his eyes and burned in his lungs and the club felt much too heavy in his hand and the soldier seemed to get bigger and bigger as he closed in, and then he was _there_ and he was swinging the club, and someone was shouting hoarsely and he felt fairly certain that it was himself.

The soldier heard his shout and turned, dodging his swing with positively _mortifying_ ease, and his armored fist came up and drove straight at Kuei's head. He heard the blow connect and saw points of light erupt in front of his eyes before he felt the pain from it—and the pain, when it hit a heartbeat later, was _immense_. The last thing he saw was Zafirah, hearing his shout, whirling around towards him with dark brown eyes widened in shock, and then the world went black.


	2. The Desert of the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elders of the Sandbender tribes say that death walks three paces behind the living... Zafirah and Basam stand face to face with an unspeakable loss, and Kuei reflects on his place in the land that used to be his kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening, friends. It's that time. It's time... for the rewritten Chapter 2. Yes. It's Sunday night as I type this, I hope you all had a nice Sunday. Enjoy the chapter, and please feel free to tell me your thoughts on it. This story is being completely remade, I'm open to suggestions and ideas! But for now, let's roll.

**CHAPTER 2- THE DESERT OF THE DEAD**

The sun was rising over the Si Wong Desert. The fight had ended hours ago—it hadn't lasted very long. Not that it would, with such unbalanced numbers. The Fire Nation had never really held with the idea of a fair fight.

Those that survived knelt in the middle of the oasis with their wrists bound behind their backs; a wall of Fire Nation soldiers surrounded them, armored shoulder to armored shoulder, a ring of identical skull faces.

Their commander was the only one with his face exposed—he probably wanted them to see the smug grin on his face as he surveyed his prisoners. He paced back and forth in front of the captives, in between them and the ring of soldiers. The commander had decided after the battle that the Sandbenders needed a lesson in respect for the element of Fire, so he'd had his men sit them down for a while. Some of the Sandbenders had knelt willingly, and those that wouldn't got an iron-toed boot to the backs of their knees.

The corpses of those that hadn't lived lay scattered around the oasis, left where they'd fallen on the fire-blackened sand—already, the stench of death was beginning to taint the air. As the morning sun rose, it would only get worse. The troops wanted to get out of the desert as quickly as they could manage, and they weren't about to waste time on cleaning up dead vermin, and they certainly weren't about to let their prisoners take the time to do it. The flying machine had already left, sailing off to whatever its next gruesome task would be.

Zafirah's stomach churned as she tried not to look at the bodies—those were her friends, her neighbors, her relatives, abandoned on the sand like the ravaged scraps from a buzzard-wasp's meal. There were so many of them. She couldn't even see all of them from her hiding spot. How long would they be forced to wait before someone could put them to their rightful rest? Or was the commander even going to allow them that dignity at all?

Zafirah couldn't shake the thought, sticking like a poisoned barb in her mind, that maybe the dead were the lucky ones. She peered out through the charred rubble that shielded her from sight, watching with dry eyes. Her throat felt tight and her head ached. Basam was crouching at her left side, tense as an archer's bowstring. She averted her eyes from the ring of soldiers, seething with shame.

_Zafirah heard a familiar voice ring out behind her in a desperate shout, and whirled around just in time to see Kuei take an armored fist to the face. He reeled back and fell to the ground. She gaped in shock, then ducked as a blast of fire hurtled past her. The soldiers she had been fending off closed in around her, fists alight and spears raised. She stumbled back a step, nearly bumping into one of them. There was no way she could fight all of them off! Dropping to one knee, she slammed both fists into the ground— walls of sand sprang up around her and the soldiers stumbled back with aggravated yells. Zafirah ducked between them and bolted._

_She spotted Kuei and ran over to where he'd fallen, crouching down next to him and shaking his shoulder. "Hey!" she called. His head rolled slightly to the side as she shook him, but he didn't respond. He was completely still, with the right side of his face red and swollen. Blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow. Was he dead? How hard had that soldier hit him? After taking a blow like that, it wouldn't be surprising. Why was he even out there? Why hadn't he stayed inside? As she reached to check his pulse, a fireball struck the sand inches from her and she jumped to her feet with a shriek. Smoke swirled around her, choking her and burning her eyes till tears welled up. She staggered back, coughing, and cupped her hand to her nose and mouth. Her head was spinning._

_"Zafirah?!" shouted Basam. Her twin dashed up to her and grabbed her arm. A bloodied hammer dangled from his other hand. "Thank the Spirits, I found you! Are you okay?" Zafirah shook her head, still coughing. She could barely speak with the smoke hanging in her lungs._

_"We… we gotta get… out of here," she rasped. She grabbed the front of Basam's shirt desperately._

_"To where?" Basam yelled over the noise. "There's nowhere to go, they have the gate blocked off! We just gotta take down as many as we can!"_

_"We can't!" she said hoarsely, shaking him. "There's no way… we can win this!" Tears rolled down her cheeks— from the smoke? Out of fear? She wasn't even sure herself._

_Basam glanced around searchingly, and his shoulders slumped. He swore and pulled her along. "Let's go," he said heavily. Zafirah glanced back at where Kuei was; Basam hadn't seen him through the smoke. If he wasn't dead already, he probably would be soon. She looked away and followed her brother._

None of the soldiers had seen them steal away to hide beneath a heap of rubble near the wreckage of the cantina. From this disgraceful hiding spot, the two of them had watched as the Fire Nation soldiers had put a swift and brutal end to the fight.

Now, the commander was parading around in front of his prisoners, chest puffed out, grinning like a hogmonkey. When he started talking, his voice carried all the way over to the cantina, and to Zafirah's hiding spot. She looked back, staring at the soldiers with aching eyes.

"Good morning, Sandbenders. It's finally sunrise," he boomed. Like his smile (which widened as he wound up for the crowning moment of his victory) the friendly tone of his voice dripped with smugness. "The leaders of the Fire Nation's military have long believed that Ba Sing Se was the last great Earth Kingdom stronghold. They believed that once the Impenetrable City fell, the glory of the Fire Lord's reign would at last reach every corner of this barbaric land. But that wasn't entirely correct, was it? No, for it was _this_ accursed wasteland, this vast expanse of nothingness, that was truly the last refuge of the Earth Kingdom. The Si Wong Desert—'Desert of the Dead' in the old tongue." The ash-maker's smile twisted into a cruel smirk. Oh yes, he was having a grand old time bragging to his captives. The commander's chest puffed out even more and he went on.

"For one hundred years, the tribes of the Si Wong Desert have held on to their freedom. Even the most elite Firebender troops would be brought to their knees by this place. This desert has always been impassable to anyone except you savages. For one hundred years, the Sandbender tribes have hidden away amidst these dunes, secure in the knowledge that they and they alone could survive here. Even with Ba Sing Se in our grasp, we could never have hoped to take the desert on foot, or even with rhinos and tanks. This was the last part of the Earth Kingdom that lay beyond our reach. Well, that is no longer true. As you can see, we have taken the skies with our war balloons—and with the skies under our command, the desert is ours as well. As we took this tribe, so too shall we take the rest in due time. Today, the Si Wong Desert has fallen."

 _The desert has fallen_. The words hit Zafirah like a strike to the face. They tore through her heart and left an aching hollow in its path and a ringing in her ears. _No one here is safe anymore, if they can cross the desert by air…_ She felt Basam's hand clutch her own with a white-knuckled grip. The press of his palm against hers was her only anchor against this sudden terror. Her eyes blurred with tears that she could barely hold back. She couldn't lose it, not right now, not yet.

The commander clapped his hands and the soldiers started rousing the prisoners. Some couldn't stand up on their own and were kicked to the dirt for their efforts before being hauled to their feet. She caught sight of Ghashiun, face twisted in pain as he got dragged upwards by his ponytail; not too far from him was Fung, a kindly old man who had sat patiently at the cantina's pai sho table day after day, waiting for a worthy challenger. A soldier seized him by the tattered collar of his tunic and wrenched the frail old man to his feet. Zafirah's fists twitched with the urge to lash out at them, she wanted to scream at them to leave him alone.

The twins watched helplessly while the soldiers shoved the captive Sandbenders into a line and chained their hands with iron manacles. The Firebenders herded their spoils of war through what had been the gateway of the oasis, to the convoy of metal carts gathered on the crest of the grassy slope that lead down to the main gate. The soldiers had come prepared, there were more than enough carts to hold all of the captives. Zafirah turned her head away, her jaw clenched.

Neither of them dared move a muscle until the clank and scrape of metal wheels and the grunting of komodo rhinos faded in the distance. Silence fell in the convoy's wake, grasping the razed and lifeless oasis in a stranglehold.

* * *

Zafirah's homeland had never frightened her much. She respected the desert, but she wasn't usually intimidated by it. Outsiders couldn't handle the loneliness of the massive desert, but the Sandbenders were experts at it. Zafirah had only ever been afraid of her home once before in her life… until that day. She and Basam clung to each other as they left their hiding place and stepped out into the remnants of their home. There was not a sound to be heard, aside from the crackling of embers as the last of the fires burned low. Smoke still hung in a thick haze, low over their heads, curling and drifting through the remains of the huts.

As they stood surrounded by smoking ruins and scorched corpses, she felt the deadly vastness of the desert more keenly than she ever had. Just like that, more than half of the Janan tribe was gone. The sounds of life were all missing—no voices laughing and arguing, no clanging of hammers or shouts from vendors luring in the occasional visitor. She could feel the weight of the unnatural silence pressing in around her—and it was as if the entire desert was suddenly looming around her, foreign and empty.

"What're we supposed to do?" Basam whispered, squeezing her arm. Zafirah craned her head to look at her brother, and the bleak, hollow-eyed stare on his face made everything worse somehow. Her twin, who was always smiling, who had been given his name because he had smiled much earlier than most babies do… that defeated heaviness looked so wrong on his face.

An echo rang through her memory from four years ago, after that first tragedy had hit them; days later, Basam's voice rousing her from the fog of her grief… _We'll be fine, Zafi. We'll get through this._ Even then, even through his own tears, he'd been able to muster a smile for her sake. And now, she couldn't even begin to think of what to say to him. What _were_ they supposed to do?

As they picked their way through the rubble, Zafirah spotted Kuei— still lying on the same spot where he'd fallen. She heaved a ragged sigh and shuffled over to him with Basam following close behind. Crouching down, she studied the still form of the bizarre tourist who'd blundered into the Oasis on the wrong night. The blood on his face had dried and the red swelling had turned into a massive bruise.

"Poor bastard walked all the way here from Ba Sing Se to escape the Fire Nation. Look how that turned out," she murmured. She moved to stand up, but then Kuei stirred and she jumped in shock, falling onto her backside. "He's still alive?!" she exclaimed. Kuei shifted and tried to open his eyes, and then immediately winced and shut them again.

"Ow!" he groaned, reaching up to his bruised face. He pushed himself up slowly on one elbow and opened his left eye— the right one was swollen shut completely. "What… what happened?" he asked groggily.

"You took a Firebender fist right to the face. Thought for sure he'd cracked your skull open," Zafirah said, still astounded. Something glinted on the sand next to him— it was the round little glasses he wore. She picked them up and handed them to him. Grimacing, he carefully sat up and put the glasses on.

"I'm amazed they didn't break," Kuei remarked. "The battle is over, I presume?" Zafirah looked away, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. "It… didn't go well, did it?" Kuei asked quietly.

"Take a look for yourself," Zafirah muttered hoarsely. He did, and his mouth dropped open in horror.

"Where is everyone?" he whispered. His voice shook with trepidation.

"The Fire Nation carted 'em all off. At least, the ones they didn't murder, anyway," Basam said bitterly. He set his hand on his sister's shoulder. She stood up, and Basam offered a hand to Kuei, who accepted it and let Basam pull him to his feet.

The siblings' hut had mostly escaped the bombs and the flames, but it felt wrong to retreat to the comfort of their house with the bodies of their kinsmen lying in the dirt like yesterday's garbage. As Zafirah stared at them, she knew what they had to do.

"We'll put them to rest when the sun sets," she murmured. Basam wordlessly nodded his agreement. That was what how it was done, after all. That was what their kin always did when one of the tribe died—but there had never been so many before. Even when the tribes fought, there were never this many.

"Um…" Kuei said hesitantly. They both turned around to see him standing unsteadily behind them, with one hand gingerly cupping his black eye. "Is… is there anything I can do to help?"

"Help?" she echoed blankly.

"With the rites. I-I thought… I could perhaps help you." His voice shook. Thinking about it again, she realized his home had suffered at the hands of the Fire Nation as well. The siblings had been cut adrift, but Kuei was stuck right there with them in the same Spirits-forsaken boat.

"Go down to the pantry. You'll see a blue jar of salve in there. Use it on your eye," she told him, and her voice cracked in her bone-dry throat. Kuei hesitated.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do…?" he asked.

"It's awful kind of you, but this is our duty," Basam said. He tried to smile, but it didn't look much like one. Kuei frowned, then nodded and headed back to the weapons shop. The two Sandbenders turned to the task ahead of them. "We'll move 'em outside the wall first," Basam said softly. Zafirah murmured agreement, but her stomach was churning as she stared at the decimated bodies.

It was part of the tradition, after all: the living carrying the dead to their final home, one last reassuring touch from their friends and family so the spirit of the deceased would know that they were still loved, even though their physical body was gone. It also tended to keep the living from getting too cocky. The elders of the Janan tribe always said that death walked three steps behind life. It was always watching from the backs of the buzzard wasps and the black eyes of the poisonous snakes and lizards; it was right there in the sun's blistering heat and the sandstorm's skin-shredding winds. It was hard to forget that when you carried the dead to their rest with your own hands.

But as Zafirah gazed out at the scorched and battered remains of her kin, she found herself freezing in place. There were so, so many of them, their bodies so mangled… Her throat burned with bile and her hands shook. She looked away, eyes squeezed shut, her heart heavy. Then she opened her eyes and took a Bending stance, turning towards the nearest body. She recognized what was left of the face—he had been one of the men that handed out water and ice rations from the iceberg. She raised the sooty sand beneath him, lifting his remains up from the ground.

"Zafirah—" Basam started, eyes widening in shock. She turned her stare on him, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. He took an uneasy step back and looked over at the body beside the one she had lifted. He knew what she was challenging him to do. He sucked in a deep breath and shuffled over to the corpse, its face too blackened to be recognizable. He regarded the body for a long moment… and then he sighed in defeat and did the same thing she had done. Zafirah could only feel a sickening hollowness in her gut; neither of them had the stomach to do what was right.

* * *

Kuei felt guilt wash over him anew as he entered the pantry. The room was smaller than he'd assumed, its shelves alarmingly barren. These people had nothing, and still they opened their home to a stranger—a stranger whose arrival had been accompanied by misfortune. He couldn't stop the chilling thought that perhaps the Fire Nation had followed him to the desert… But no, surely a dethroned and exiled king wasn't enough of a threat to warrant that much effort? He hadn't been the one with the true power to begin with, and Princess Azula must have known that from her dealings with Long Feng— and that old traitor was surely either dead or imprisoned by now. Nevertheless, the fact remained that disaster had been shadowing his footsteps with relentless consistency.

Bosco rumbled sadly and nudged Kuei's arm as he emerged from the pantry with the blue jar in hand. The bear had fled to the basement during the attack; Kuei found him huddled in a corner, quaking and growling. He absently scratched the bear's ears with his spare hand as he ducked into the washroom and set his spectacles on the shelf.

The reflection in the dusty mirror was an unfamiliar image. Black eyes and dried blood were most definitely _not_ a part of the 52nd Earth King's life. Nor was the grim weariness in his eyes. Nor was charging headlong into battle against a Fire Nation soldier for the sake of someone he'd known for less than half a day. He inhaled deeply to steady himself.

He squeezed his left eye shut, wincing at the pain that shot through the right side of his face as he did. He felt himself teetering at the edge of the map, a hair's breadth from the unknown. Kuei opened his eyes and exhaled slowly.

* * *

It had taken over an hour to move all the corpses beyond the wall. Zafirah and Basam had placed them all behind the Oasis, facing west, where they would be put to rest later. The sun was climbing high in the sky overhead, and Zafirah felt like its brightness was burning right through her, exposing her cowardice for the whole desert to see.

When the two of them slunk back to their home, Zafirah didn't even have the strength to climb the ladder down to the basement; she jumped the short distance down, stumbling as she landed and slumping against the wall next to the ladder. Basam clambered down after her and shuffled straight towards the washroom, staring down at his hands as if he didn't even recognize them.

Zafirah, for her part, was trying not to look at her hands—the very hands that she would later use to put their kin to rest. She couldn't stand to look at them; not because they were covered in gore, but because they were too clean. For all the dirt, soot, and sweat coating their faces and covering their clothes, their hands were cleaner than they should've been for the grisly task they'd just done.

The two of them had used their Sandbending to lift all of the remains over the wall and place them down, carrying them on the sand where they had been killed. So many people that they had grown up with were now dead—murdered—and she and her brother had literally kept their hands clean of it. They had hidden during the fight, and it was her own fault for panicking. She hadn't even been able to stomach the thought of moving the bodies with her own hands; she couldn't even give them that last gift of dignity and love.

She looked over at Kuei, taking a nap on the rug. He sat curled up against his pet's side, sleeping fitfully. His face contorted and he shifted as some kind of bad dream played out. His right hand gripped a fistful of the bear's brown fur. Zafirah could see he'd found the salve— it coated his swollen eye in a patch of pale green.

"Outsider's got the right idea," Basam said. "We oughta try and rest, too. Gonna be a long night."

Zafirah nodded weakly. Their task wasn't over yet, they still had a lot to do. There was the last rites at sunset, and then they would set out into the desert. Not all of the Janan tribe had lived at the Oasis; some were out scavenging for resources, some were off trading in nearby towns. Some were with their sister tribe, the Aqila. She and Basam were the only ones left, it was their task now to go and find their remaining kin.

And there was more to it than just finding their tribespeople. They had to tell the other Sandbender tribes about the flying machines, warn them that the Fire Nation could go anywhere they wanted in the desert. Their tribe at the oasis had been wiped out, and it sounded like the Fire Nation planned to come back and finish the job before too long. It was only a matter of time before the other tribes found themselves with a target on their backs as well. The only thing bigger than the Fire Nation's military was the Fire Lord's greed, it seemed. So now, with only themselves left, they had a duty to fulfill.

Ninety years ago, in the early days of the war, the elders of all the tribes had made a pact; they'd all agreed that if the war ever came to the desert, whoever survived the first attacks would warn the other tribes… and prepare for the counterattack. Of course, that had just been talk. It hadn't seemed likely to ever become a problem, back then. What could the Fire Nation possibly want with the Si Wong? There were no resources to plunder, no gold, no jewels, no coal, no timber, no water. If they came for slaves, the tribes could just retreat into the deep desert, and then what? The Fire Nation troops surely weren't stupid enough to think they could win a fight out there, if they even made it that far before the heat, sandstorms, and wildlife got them. It had seemed laughable, the idea of armored soldiers traipsing through the dunes, shaking sand out of their boots.

And yet, it looked like they'd all underestimated the Fire Lord. It was different now— if the warmongers wanted to take on the deep desert, all they had to do was hop into their flying machines. So now it fell to Zafirah and her brother to actually go and carry out that old pact from the early days. They would leave at sunset, travel while it was dark. Oh, this was going to be a very long night.

She settled onto her mattress, hardly aware she'd even moved until she found herself staring listlessly at the ceiling. She rolled onto her side and turned her restless gaze on Kuei and Bosco through a gap in the curtain. Ba Sing Se had already fallen, and now the Si Wong was next. She had always reckoned that the desert would hold out forever, even if everywhere else fell. The Desert of the Dead had seemed invincible, even more so than Ba Sing Se's walls. She had thought the war would never find them, but the Fire Nation had found a way in. _They're never going to stop_ , she realized. _It's never gonna be enough for them…_

Hours later, just before sunset, Basam woke her up. Not that she'd slept much, and neither had he, judging from the dark circles under his eyes. Zafirah got up, letting out a heavy breath.

"It's time, huh?" she murmured.

"Yeah," Basam agreed quietly.

* * *

The sun was setting above the far-distant sand dunes in the west. Its fading rays silhouetted a grim scene: the row of bodies laid out on the sand behind the Misty Palms Oasis, and the two survivors standing before them. Zafirah and Basam were side by side as they steeled themselves for the task ahead.

Zafirah stared out at the orange and pink of the blazing sky, letting the light wash over her. This was the most important part of the day, after all, the sacred hour— the sun's retreat and the relief from the scalding heat that came with it. The elders liked to talk about the old legends, where the spirit of the sun granted the tribes of the desert a few hours of peace, a respite where they didn't have to worry about sun-sickness or thirst. In those myths, the beautiful colors of the sunset were a peace offering from the sun spirit, who felt remorseful that her duties put the Sandbenders in danger.

As Janan tradition said, the dead rested on their backs, lying so that they faced the sunset. This way, the sky's colors could fall on the eyes of the dead, one last time— the sun spirit's parting gift to them.

Zafirah glanced at Basam on her right; he stood with his head tilted back, eyes shut, mouth moving slightly as he silently recited the words of an ancient invocation. She spotted the round edges of a meditation stone grasped in his right hand; their father had carved one for each of them when they were babies, but Zafirah rarely took hers out of its pouch these days. Basam turned it over and over in his palm, running his fingers over the inscriptions carved into it.

She let her brother take care of the invocations, and she turned to the next step— they had to prepare the dead for their return to the sand. Before sunset, the two of them had gathered cloth from the homes of the victims; she'd taken clothes, headscarves, wraps. Now, she walked along the row of bodies and laid cloth scraps over each one, making sure to leave their faces exposed. She kept her eyes averted as she went through the task, and she couldn't help but feel a flash of shame. Death was a part of life, and they were supposed to treat the bodies of the dead with the same respect as the living; but these were people she and her brother had known their whole lives, and she couldn't bring herself to see them like this.

Once the cloth was in place, Zafirah walked over to her brother. A lighted torch burned by his feet, the end of it wedged into the sand to keep it upright. She bent and plucked it from the sand. Straightening up and looking to her brother, Basam met her eyes and nodded once.

"Spirit of the Sun, Spirit of the Si Wong," Basam recited, stretching his hands out towards the sunset. "We thank you for giving our kin to us, and we return them to your care." His voice cracked, each word heavy and slowly spoken.

Zafirah stood at the feet of the first body, and her hand shook as she held the torch. She had to do this, she knew that. Leaning down, she touched the flame to the cloth covering the body. It caught the edge of the fabric, and her stomach churned. She moved on to the next one, and the next, and the next.

"Their time with us was more sustaining than fresh water, and more nourishing than any meal," Basam said, his voice shaking as much as Zafirah's hands. "They brought light into our days, as the sun brings light to the day— to the desert," he corrected himself. "They brought… they brought peace to our hearts, as the night brings peace from the blazing heat."

She paused before the last one now. He had been the foreman on the sand sailer maintenance team; Basam had worked with him every day for years. Zafirah touched the fire to his cloth covering and watched it light up. She stood back, next to Basam, and she forced herself to watch as the flames rose over the bodies of the people they had grown up with. She fixed her eyes on the fire, forcing back the bile that rose. She would not treat these people like strangers in their last moments.

"Now their time has passed, and we give them back to the desert. From the sands they rose, and to the sands they go to— to their rest. Give them rest beyond sleep and happiness beyond the mortal heart, and—" Basam halted, taking a deep breath, then pushed on to the end. "And… grant us the good fortune to find them again in the next lifetime."

The flames blurred before Zafirah as tears flooded her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. Smoke from the fire burned in her lungs, but she didn't budge and she didn't take her gaze away. Beside her, from the corner of her eye, she saw Basam's shoulders quaking, heard his muffled sobs, but he kept his eyes on the fire as well. He grabbed her hand and she squeezed it tightly; he squeezed back. They stayed there as the flames burned, the smoke rising up into the gathering dusk.

* * *

Kuei waited near the entrance to the Sandbenders' hut, with Bosco at his side. As much as he would've liked to be able to help the siblings, it had occurred to him that this ritual was likely a private moment for them, so he had stayed behind as they went outside the wall to give their fallen tribespeople their sendoff.

When he spotted the smoke rising over the wall to the west, his heart lurched in his chest. To think of the pain they must've been feeling at that moment… their home was in ruins, and the two of them alone were left to say goodbye to the ones that had died. It was horribly unfair, of course, but he had learned recently just how unfair life could be.

Although, their fate was certainly more unfair than his. The misfortune that had befallen him was partly his own fault, after all— he could've kicked himself for not stopping to consider that perhaps the Dai Li were in league with Long Feng. If he had entrusted Long Feng's imprisonment to the city's soldiers rather than the Dai Li, perhaps the old bastard wouldn't have had the chance to join forces with the Fire Nation princess. If he had asked the Avatar to stay just a little longer and greet the so-called Kyoshi Warriors, the impostors would've been spotted right away. And then, maybe Kuei wouldn't have been forced into exile. Maybe Ba Sing Se wouldn't have fallen. He couldn't overlook his own fault in the matter.

Kuei had often heard in books that one small thing could lead to any number of changes in the world— a spider-fly beating its wings in Gaoling could cause a storm in the North Pole… one injured ostrich-horse could delay a delivery that loses a battle and decides the outcome of a war… If Princess Azula hadn't taken Ba Sing Se, then the conquest of the great walled city would've remained a top priority for the Fire Nation. Would they still have sent troops to the desert if Ba Sing Se had still been in their sights? Would that have prevented this attack on the Misty Palms Oasis?

These people had done nothing to deserve an attack of this scale. Certainly, Sandbenders had a reputation for thievery, but even if it were true it was hardly enough to condemn them to being brutalized as they had been. What they had experienced was the very definition of inhumanity. No, he certainly couldn't compare his fate to theirs.

He couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty for this tragedy; the Earth King's jurisdiction extended to all parts of the Earth Kingdom, excluding Omashu of course. The Sandbenders were his responsibility, too. _There must be something I can do for them_ , he thought, frowning. There _had_ to be some way he could be of use here. That was a king's duty, wasn't it? To serve his people and provide for their needs? And that was why he had left the Avatar's group to travel on his own, wasn't it? He wanted to understand the lives of the Earth Kingdom's citizens, the better to protect and provide for them if he ever regained the throne. Heaving a frustrated sigh, he adjusted his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and winced as his knuckles brushed his black eye. Bosco whined worriedly and Kuei ruffled the fur behind the bear's ears.

"It's okay, Bosco," Kuei murmured. Nothing was _actually_ okay, but luckily for Bosco, none of this was his problem.

Eventually, he spotted the two Sandbenders climbing through a gap in the wall. The two of them supported one another as they shuffled back to the hut, each with an arm around the other's torso, braced against each other. As the two of them picked their way across the wreckage of the Oasis, Kuei couldn't help but wonder what they planned to do next. He knew what his own course of action had to be. He would take his leave, of course. He wanted to help, but if there was nothing he could do, then he would depart— he wouldn't impose on them any further. But what of his hosts? Would they stay in the Oasis, empty and demolished as it was? It was chilling to think of the two of them living alone in this devastated place.

As they arrived at the hut, Bosco looked up at them and gurgled sadly. Kuei mustered a smile at Bosco and patted his head reassuringly. The two Sandbenders stopped in front of Kuei and he knew the time had likely come to say his farewells.

"I'm sorry that you both have had to endure this," he said quietly. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Not unless you got an army we could borrow," Zafirah muttered darkly. Kuei shifted his weight awkwardly, glancing guiltily down at Bosco. The bear looked up at him and tilted his head. Clearing his throat, Kuei looked back up at Zafirah.

"I should be on my way, then," he said. "Thank you for your hospitality. If there is anything I can ever do to repay you…" The words felt painfully inadequate, but what else could he offer?

Basam shrugged slightly. "Don't worry about it," he mumbled. He rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, adding, "We'll be heading out of here, too. The desert's waitin' for us. There's a… well, it's kind of an old promise we're obliged to keep, now that, uh…"

"All the other tribes need to know about what happened here," Zafirah explained to Kuei, her voice dry and cracking. "With those flying machines… there's nothin' to stop those hogmonkeys from going deep into the desert anymore. And that bastard commander said they'd be back for more soon."

A shiver ran down Kuei's spine as the implications of that dawned on him. The Fire Nation could attack as many of the Sandbender tribes as they wanted now, without the impediment of traveling on foot. It was just as the commander had said, the desert was truly theirs for the taking now, and they would certainly take as much as they wanted.

Basam scratched the back of his head, then said, "If you really wanna help with something, maybe you can help us get a sand sailer ready to go," he remarked.

Kuei nodded briskly, saying, "Certainly!" If there was even the smallest chance to repay his hosts, he would take it. Surely, even he could help with something as simple as packing supplies. Zafirah motioned for him to follow them back into their hut.

* * *

Zafirah sat on the rug in the middle of the room, staring around at the only home she had ever known. They were packing up whatever they could carry for the journey into the desert— whatever they didn't need, they'd be able to trade for food and water. It wasn't like they could stay here, after all, and the leftovers would just get picked over by thieves, so they were emptying the place out.

They _couldn't_ stay here, she knew that; and once they had delivered their message, they wouldn't be coming back. They would seek out shelter with their remaining Janan tribespeople and the Aqila tribe, the sister tribe to their own. If they ever returned to the Oasis, it wouldn't be for a very long time. And when they did, what would be left? The wreckage would get plundered from top to bottom. Even if their captured Janan kin ever got away from the Fire Nation's grasp, they might not have a home to come back to.

She clenched her fists on her knees till her knuckles popped, eyes burning with tears. Zafirah ducked her head, teeth gritted, then jumped to her feet and strode over to the kitchen. Her pulse was pounding all of a sudden, and she started shoving the few plates and cups they had into a sack with a surge of restless energy that passed as quickly as it had hit, leaving her leaning listlessly against the cabinet.

Basam paused in the midst of gathering up their few blankets and pillows they had, and he glanced over at her. Neither of them said anything, but even from across the room she could see the heavy slump to his shoulders and she knew he had probably realized the same thing. Zafirah went back to packing up their kitchen, fighting back more tears.

Just then, Kuei clambered down the ladder, stumbling off it at the bottom from the weight of the water skins he was carrying. Basam had asked him to go and see if he could find any spare supplies in the wreckage of the neighboring huts. Neither Zafirah nor her twin could bring themselves to go and look, but they might need the extra food and water— and it would just go to waste if they left it.

"Here, these were all the water skins I could find," he said, lugging them over to her. He'd strung them on a length of tattered rope, running it through their straps. When he handed her the string of skins, she hefted it up and stared in surprise.

"You made a carrying handle," she remarked. Kuei cleared his throat and wiped his hands on his pants.

"W-well, it seemed like an easier way to gather more of them all at once," he said.

She mustered a faint smile, and it wasn't entirely forced. "It was a good idea," she told him. Slinging the string over her shoulder, she dragged it over to the pile of packed items in the middle of the room.

Once the supplies were handled, there wasn't much else to pack. Zafirah and Basam didn't have much in the way of personal stuff— a couple extra sets of clothes between the two of them, Zafirah's hair comb, Basam's shaving kit, a few other odds and ends.

With nothing else to do, Kuei had set about preparing for his own journey. His personal belongings amounted to Bosco, the clothes on his back, and now a Water Tribe war club. Zafirah had flat-out refused to let him give it back; he probably couldn't have hit Si Wong Rock at half a pace with the damned thing, but the way she saw it, he wasn't exactly losing anything by keeping it. Maybe he'd even learn how to use it properly, and save himself from getting more black eyes in the future.

It was a good weapon for him, she'd decided. It was just as awkward and out-of-place here as he was. One of Ghashiun's cronies from outside the Janan tribe had brought it to her after the dust-up with the Avatar, and it had been sitting on that shelf in their store ever since. She had no idea why Kuei had picked it up, or why he'd seen fit to take a run at a Firebender with it, but it had happened anyway. Clearly, he didn't have much practice in choosing his fights.

Basam patted her on the back once as he passed by on his way to the ladder. He'd go and find a sand sailer for them— if there were any left intact. At the base of the ladder, he stopped and turned back suddenly.

"Hey, Zafi, what're we gonna do about a navigator?" he asked. Zafirah swore under her breath, shaking her head. One more problem to heap onto their woes.

"We'll have to go by sight, I guess," she muttered. It wouldn't be easy, but with three posts on a sand sailer and just the two of them, what choice did they have? Basam nodded grimly and hurried up the ladder.

"A navigator?" Kuei asked from behind her. He sounded concerned.

"Yeah," Zafirah sighed, running her hands through her hair. "Takes three of us to make a sand sailer go. Two to power it and one up top to steer it. Three's the least you need, we usually don't sail out with any less than five." She snorted and added sourly, "Gonna be an interesting ride with just two of us."

Kuei was silent for a moment, and then he said, "Let me do it." Zafirah turned and looked up sharply at him, startled by the determination in his voice. He was looking right at her, back straight and his hands in fists at his sides. He added, "Tell me what needs to be done, and I'll do whatever I can to get it right."

She gaped at him, astounded. "You… wanna come with us. On the sand sailer. Into the deep desert," she said.

He swallowed heavily, then gave a firm nod. "Yes, I do," he said, lifting his chin.

Where was this sudden backbone of his coming from? And more importantly… why? She'd never known an outsider to be so damn helpful, unless they wanted something. She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms.

"What's it to you?" she asked with a scowl. "This isn't your fight. How come you wanna help out so bad?"

Kuei faltered, his fists loosening, his shoulders dropping slightly. "Uh, well, you offered me shelter," he sputtered. "Y-you opened your home to me, a-and such a terrible thing has happened to you and your brother, and I— I thought perhaps I could return the favor…" He looked away from her, glancing to his pet bear, like the beast was going to back him up somehow.

Zafirah barked out a sharp, hollow laugh. In all the horror of the day, she'd almost forgotten that this weird man had come here as a tourist the day before. She hadn't thought anything of it when he'd offered his help after the final rites, but here he was, still trying to make himself useful. And yet, he couldn't even look her in the eye while making the offer. She'd met plenty of "generous" outsiders before; so what was this one's angle? On top of everything else, was she now going to have to regret being so nice to this stranger?

"You sure are helpful, huh?" she remarked as frustration seethed within her. "First you wanna help us pack, now you wanna tag along into the desert? Helping us get a sailer ready is one thing, but _this_ is a whole different business entirely."

Kuei took a step back. "I— I just wanted to do something to show my gratitude for—"

"You don't make an offer like that just to repay a favor. Maybe we didn't make it clear, but we're gonna be sailing into the heart of the Si Wong," she interrupted sharply. She jabbed a finger at him, her other hand going to her hip. "Why in the world would _you_ be so damn eager to go with us? You _do_ realize where we're goin', right? Did they teach you anything at all about the desert in those fancy Ba Sing Se schools?"

He stuttered incoherently for a moment, going slightly pale— but then, amazingly, he rallied. "Yes, I've read quite a few books about the desert," he said, folding his arms over his chest. "There are sandstorms as big as Ba Sing Se's walls, there are buzzard wasps, there are quite a number of venomous insects and reptiles. They say there are more ways to die in the Si Wong than there are grains of sand."

"And you still wanna ride with us? You really wanna be our navigator?" she asked, aghast.

"I want to help," he stated. This time, he didn't break eye contact. She stared at him, completely at a loss. So he was really going to insist that he was just that much of a helpful spirit, then? She strode right up to him and jabbed her fingertip against his shoulder, looking him dead in the eye.

"Then tell me the real reason why you wanna do this," she told him. He opened his mouth, shut it again, and looked away.

"There was someone I let down in Ba Sing Se," he said quietly. "I… I failed immensely in my responsibilities. I let down a lot of people, and one person in particular… someone important. I can't stand by and watch more people get hurt. I want to do whatever I can, wherever I can. I'd rather put my life at risk than watch helplessly anymore."

Zafirah's brow furrowed. That had sounded remarkably honest. There was clearly more to it, but the root of what he'd just said… he was being truthful. He'd looked away again, but not fast enough to stop her from seeing the shame on his face.

"You know you've never been on a sand sailer, right?" she pointed out— but the fight had gone out of her, the frustration had boiled away. "What makes you think you can even help us at all? Could be that you just end up as dead weight, slowing us down."

"That's… that's true," he admitted, and it was clearly something he hadn't stopped to consider. His shoulders slumped and he shrugged. "You don't owe me this chance— or anything at all, really," he said. "I can't ask you to put yourself at risk for the sake of my own redemption."

Zafirah crossed her arms, tapping her fingertips against her forearm as she mulled it over. It'd be a risk, taking an outsider out on a sailer as an untested navigator. But sailing out with no navigator at all was just as much of a risk. The difference was that one option _might_ work out, and the other was pretty much asking for disaster.

Finally, she sighed and shook her head. "The other tribes aren't as tolerant of outsiders as us Janan folks," she remarked. "When we get there, don't talk to anyone till we make an introduction, all right? And we're gonna have to get your clothes fixed up. You won't last long dressed like that."

"So, you'll take me with you, then?" Kuei asked hopefully.

"Well, yeah, I just said that, didn't I?" Zafirah said, fists on her hips. She knew she might end up regretting it, but she'd made her decision. "We'll take you along till we find another tribe, and then we'll drop you off at the edge of the desert so you can move on. Deal?"

"It's a deal," he agreed resolutely. He was going to make the most of this chance, he just had to.

Zafirah motioned for him to follow her. "C'mon, we got a lot to do still before we leave," she said.

* * *

They'd be traveling at night— it was even more important now, with just three in their crew and one of them an outsider.

Down in the basement, Basam picked up the last of the supply sacks and slung them over his shoulder, mustering up the most reassuring smile he could manage as he passed by. Zafirah did her best to echo it, despite the horrible, aching hollowness in her chest. Her twin always had a smile to offer anybody that couldn't find one of their own. Their parents had always said—

She took another shaky breath and fought against the sudden stinging in the corners of her eyes. She glanced around the basement; this was their home, hers and her parents' and her brother's, and as much of a pain as it was living in a place like the desert, it was still _theirs_. Now it was empty, gutted, with every easily-carried thing taken out. Anyone walking in would've thought the place had been picked over by scavengers— and it would be, before too long, and the rest of the oasis along with it. The thought of raiders picking over the remains of her home, snatching anything in sight with their grimy hands and then doing the same to her neighbors' homes, the places where her friends and kin had grown up…

Her blood boiled at the thought, and for a moment, all she wanted to do was to stay here and guard the Oasis. Why should they have to leave their home, anyway? Why did it have to be them? Why was it up to her and Basam to carry out this task? Why did it have to be the Misty Palms Oasis that the Fire Nation felt like raiding last night?

But she didn't have time for self-pity. She took one last look around to see if they'd missed anything useful. Her gaze landed on Kuei, sitting in the middle of the floor with Bosco lounging beside him.

Kuei was exactly where she'd left him half an hour ago: doing his damnedest to follow her instructions to make his outfit "desert-proof". The clothes he had left him with bare arms and lower legs, and bare skin in the open desert wasn't exactly a good idea. So she'd given him a shirt with long sleeves (borrowed from her brother) and a bundle of spare bindings to cover himself up with; he'd already layered his own shirt over the borrowed one and done a decent job of wrapping his legs, and was now completely failing at wrapping his right hand. Zafirah rolled her eyes and strode over to him, and sat cross-legged in front of him.

"Give me that," she told him, hands reaching out for his. "We'll be here all day if you keep that up."

Kuei hastily held his hands away from her. "No, no, that's quite all right, I think I nearly have it," he declared.

"No, seriously, give 'em here. We don't wear those things for fun. You'll get yourself hurt if they're done wrong," she said sternly. He reluctantly held out his right hand, and she quickly unwound the messily-wrapped strip of cloth. After smoothing it out, she began wrapping the cloth around his knuckles with the ease that comes from a lifetime of daily practice. Kuei watched intently, studying how she did it. She wouldn't have been surprised if he was trying to memorize how to do it on his own.

His skin felt smooth and soft under her callused fingertips. _Yep, definitely from a rich, noble background,_ she thought _. Probably never done a single day's hard work, never been in a fight…_ Kuei winced again as his eye twinged. He raised his free hand to touch it, then dropped his hand again like he'd thought better of messing with it.

Zafirah grimaced in sympathy, recalling black eyes of her own. "That's what happens when you pick the wrong fight," she said, not unkindly. "Why'd you do that, anyway? Felt like takin' a swing at a Firebender, huh? Can't say I blame you, but that was maybe not the best idea you've ever had." He looked up at her, his unbruised eye so wide and solemn it was almost comical next to the swollen one.

"Oh, no, not at all! But you were in the midst of fighting those other soldiers and that one was trying to attack you from behind," he explained. Zafirah's hands froze on his for a second. Was he saying he'd done it to help her? She hadn't even seen the soldier he'd charged at until his shout had drawn her attention. Recovering, she went back to work on his wraps.

"He was sneaking up on me? You sure about that?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

"Yes, I'm certain of it. He was taking aim at you while you were distracted by the other soldiers. I had to at least _try_ to stop him." He chuckled faintly and brushed his fingers over his eye. "I'm afraid it didn't work very well, did it?" he asked wryly.

"It did, as a matter of fact," she said. "I never saw him coming. Didn't even know he was there till I heard you yellin' your fool head off. He'd have roasted me." _Bleeding hogmonkeys, this idiot saved my life._

"Well then, I suppose it was worth a punch in the face," he said, the corners of his mouth tugging upward a little. She didn't respond to that— what was she supposed to say?

As she finished the wraps on his right arm and went to work on his left, she shot a surreptitious glance at him. He was just sitting there, still watching her methods as she worked. What a bizarre type of outsider this was, with that absurd hodgepodge of mismatched clothes, and just _one_ Spirits-be-damned sandal, and what was probably the first black eye he'd ever had in his whole entire life… and _this_ was the person who'd saved her hide? She couldn't have imagined a less heroic-looking rescuer. Who was this tourist and why was he so damned _helpful_?

But there it was— he'd saved her life. She was indebted to him now. And she wasn't sure how she felt about that. He was from Ba Sing Se, and probably nobility at that; when those types came to visit the Oasis, there was always something they wanted— and when they offered help of any type, or the smallest show of kindness, it was never for free. Outsiders had all kinds of peculiar expectations about Sandbenders and they all seemed to think they owned the place. Was this one really any different, or was he just better at hiding it?

Somehow, she had a hard time believing that he was lying. It was entirely possible that he had saved her life because he thought it was _the right thing to do_ , and that made her incredibly uneasy. Outsiders didn't go around helping Sandbenders out of kindness—it was a basic rule of her world, and he had no idea he'd broken it. She tied off the binding at his elbow and sat back, taking a look at her handiwork. The bindings weren't as thickly layered as a Sandbender's would be, but they'd do the trick well enough.

"There ya go, all done," she said. Kuei smiled slightly and examined his arms, flexing his fingers and wrists.

"Incredible. They're snug, but not uncomfortable. And they don't limit my movement at all!" he marveled. "Thank you for doing that."

"Hey, it'll just make trouble for us if you get sunburned or something," Zafirah said with a shrug. "I didn't do it to be nice." What a weird thing to thank her for. _I'll be keeping my eye on you, outsider_ , she thought. Before he'd just been an amusing oddity, but now he was a riddle. And Zafirah never could pass up a good riddle.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who might be wondering- yes, it's true! Kuei only has one sandal when he begins his journey in Book 3! Go look at screencaps from Book 3 Episode 1, the scene where Kuei and Bosco leave. He's wearing one. sandal. What a nerd. Keep an eye out for Chapter 3, coming soon!


	3. The Spirits' Furnace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A team born of necessity, Kuei departs into the heart of the Si Wong Desert with Zafirah and Basam. The vastness and deceptive tranquility of the dunes provides the ideal backdrop for reflection upon yourself... but there's countless ways to die in the desert and the voyage will not be a quiet one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story marches on! Welcome to Chapter 3.

* * *

**CHAPTER 3— THE SPIRITS' FURNACE**

The sun had set beyond the sand dunes in the west. The remaining fiery glow reminded Kuei uncomfortably of the battle that had ravaged the Oasis, but he ignored that thought; he needed to be focused and alert for the task ahead. The fading rays of sunlight silhouetted the sand sailer that was waiting to depart as Kuei approached it.

The two Sandbenders were already aboard; they stood on the navigator's platform and looked out across the desert with their backs to him, dusky shapes against the orange sunset. Zafirah swept an arm out in a graceful arc to point out something in the distance, and Basam nodded in agreement to whatever words passed between them.

As Kuei reached them with Bosco at his side, the Sandbenders turned to face him. Zafirah hopped down from the platform, landing easily on the soft sand, and strode over to him. He spied a dagger from the shop strapped to her lower leg, the brass decorations on its sheath glinting in the light.

She clucked her tongue, shaking her head as her eyes landed on his haphazardly-wrapped headscarves. Zafirah and Basam had plenty of last-minute tasks that had needed their attention, so Kuei had tried to take care of his head coverings and scarf on his own. After watching her wrap his arms, he'd felt fairly confident that he could figure out the headscarves. Her grimace at his handiwork confirmed that he hadn't quite gotten the technique right.

"Here, take that off for a second," she said, digging through one of her pockets. He pulled the scarves down and she handed him a small eye-mask with slitted eyes. "You're gonna need this visor. Keep this on at all times while the sailer's moving, got that? The last thing you want is sand in your eyes, especially if we run into a storm. It's not gonna be fun wearing it over that black eye, but it's better than going blind."

"O-oh… right," Kuei agreed, blanching at the thought. He put the visor in place over his eyes, wincing as it touched his bruise. Once he'd tied the strings behind his head, Zafirah got to work fixing his headscarves.

Kuei lowered his head so she could reach more easily, and did his best to stand patiently while she worked. He wondered if most Sandbenders were prone to such casual invasions of personal space, or if it was a habit unique to this particular one. He didn't necessarily find it objectionable—it was just _odd_. No one in Ba Sing Se would _dare_ touch the Earth King without permission. He thought back to the Avatar's group and the way they would embrace in comfort or solidarity, or place reassuring hands on one another's shoulders; he recalled Toph's arm punches (and the ensuing bruises), and the way the Water Tribesmen would clasp each other's forearms in greeting. Clearly, this kind of casual contact was something Kuei would just have to accustom himself to.

"We're setting a course for Si Wong Rock," Zafirah explained as she rearranged the head coverings. "That's where the tribes meet whenever there's big trouble. We'll have a clear view for miles around from the top of the rock. We might spot one of the tribes from up there, so we can sail out to meet 'em. Might take a couple days to track anyone down, though."

"It sounds as though these other tribes prefer not to be found too easily," he commented.

"Good guess," she remarked. She finished fixing his headscarves and stepped back, her work done, and lifted her thickly-wrapped right hand in a thumbs-up. Kuei hesitantly returned the unfamiliar gesture, trying to ignore the claustrophobic feel of the cloth surrounding his head. The fresh coating of salve he'd applied to his black eye kept it from stinging too badly where the visor pressed lightly against the bruise.

Zafirah stared out into the sunset. "Si Wong Rock is the heart of the desert. It's in a place we call the Spirits' Furnace. It's the hottest and harshest part of the deep desert, so be ready," she warned him. Kuei felt a sudden chill and clenched his fists. He wasn't going to let the dangers ahead get the better of him. Basam whistled from his place on the platform and Zafirah turned, catching the spyglass that he tossed to her. She handed it to Kuei.

"The compass is up there, and so's the map," she explained. "Like I said before, all you gotta do is read the headings and call 'em out. All right?" Kuei grasped the spyglass and nodded determinedly. He _had_ to get this right. He wasn't going to let these two down. Bosco nudged his nose against Zafirah's hand, feeling left out. Zafirah sighed resignedly and gingerly patted the bear's furry head. "There, there," she muttered.

"C'mon!" Basam called from the sailer. "We got us a desert to cross." Kuei followed Zafirah to the sailer, where she boosted herself up to the lower platform on a pillar of sand. Basam leaped down with a solid _thud_ to join them on the platform and stretched a hand down to Kuei. Deciding that now was not the time for pride, Kuei took the other man's offered assistance and let Basam haul him up.

"Now the real question is, where do we put Furball there?" Zafirah mused, narrowing her eyes at Bosco, still sitting on the ground.

"He oughta go up on the navigator's post. The sailer would be off-balance any other way," Basam pointed out. Zafirah looked at Bosco, and then up at the topmost platform, and the distance between the two.

"I was afraid you'd say that," she muttered.

"He's never been very good at climbing, unfortunately," Kuei said apologetically. Sokka's bear lessons hadn't really had much of an effect on Bosco, regrettably.

"Yeah, yeah, let's just get this over with," Zafirah groused. She and Basam raised the sand under Bosco, trying to hoist him up— but he just sank into the sand till he was buried up to his neck in it. They let the sand drop and Bosco thudded down with it; the bear gurgled happily and bounced on his forepaws, like it was a game. Kuei nearly laughed and quickly covered it with a cough. This really wasn't the time to be amused by his pet's antics.

The Sandbenders gave it another shot, gathering even more sand under the bear. Bosco steadily rose into the air until he was nearly at the platform. With Kuei's urging, the bear clambered off the sand and onto the wooden platform. Zafirah and Basam both heaved a sigh of relief and slumped against each other, letting the sand fall again. Bosco whined, and Kuei gave him a reassuring scratch behind the ears. Getting Bosco up to the navigator's perch proved to be far easier, with Kuei using a scrap of dried meat as bait to lure the bear into climbing up. At last, he and Kuei were both at their post.

The Sandbenders gave Kuei a moment to familiarize himself with his map and compass as they made a few last preparations to the sand sailer. He studied both intently, doing his best to remember what he'd read about navigation in the royal library.

The two siblings took their spots on the lower platforms to the sides of the navigator's post, and they were as ready to leave as they'd ever be. The Sandbenders took firmly rooted stances, feet planted apart and knees bent, and lifted their arms with their fingers outstretched. Moving as one, the siblings swept their arms back and thrust them forward, once, twice, three times. A gust of sand whirled up behind the sail hanging slack between the double hulls, growing and pulsing. The yellow cloth billowed and snapped outward when the swirling sand became a tornado, pulling its lines taut, and the sailer sprang to life. Kuei gasped and nearly lost his balance as the little wooden vessel jumped forward. He couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation as he glanced back at the oasis, already shrinking in their wake—there he was, setting out for destinations unknown across the dunes of the perilous Si Wong Desert! If only their voyage hadn't started under such tragic circumstances, it would have been the adventure he'd always dreamed of.

* * *

Zafirah fell into a steady rhythm as the dunes rolled past: arms casting forward, swinging back, over and over again. The rhythm was soothingly familiar in the madness of the past night, although their sailer felt sluggish under the added bulk of Kuei's damned pet. _A lion turtle'd weigh less_ , she thought peevishly. The owner of said slobbery beast perched above her with his sights aimed at the horizon, checking the map and compass just as she'd told him to.

Cast forward, swing back, cast forward.

The sand around them shone a pale, silvery grey as the moon shone down on them.

Cast forward, swing back, cast forward.

The sky darkened into blue-black, save for the silver light of a crescent moon squinting down at them. Kuei checked the compass bound to the front of his post and called out a new course heading, just like they'd told him to. The man _was_ a fast learner.

Cast forward, swing back, and call a halt. She wasn't tired yet and she knew Basam wasn't either, but they needed food and water, tired or not. Wouldn't do to push themselves too far. They took their brief rest in silence and moved on quickly.

* * *

Kuei had wondered how difficult it might be to navigate, but it proved much simpler than he'd expected. He caught on quickly enough, and the most challenging part turned out to be keeping his balance on the sailer. He'd never been to sea, but he wondered if it felt like this. The sailer rocked and swayed as it crested each dune and cruised across uneven sand. Eventually, he started to get used to that as well. The Water Tribesmen at the camp in Chameleon Bay had referred to getting one's "sea legs"; he wondered if this could be called "desert legs" instead.

The first leg of the trip went smoothly enough. The trio sailed through the night until the faint light of dawn began to brighten the eastern sky. The Sandbenders lowered their arms, sinking the sand-tornado back into the earth, and the sailer coasted to a stop. With the sailer turned sideways to block the oncoming brutality of the day's heat, the three of them lashed down the corners of the sail, stretching it tight between the hulls and the navigator's post so that it became a shelter against the sun. They retrieved some food and necessities from their supplies, coaxed Bosco down from the sailer platform (an even more trying task than getting him up there to begin with) and retreated to the shade of their makeshift tent. The trio sat in a huddled circle, while Bosco curled up behind his master, and they tucked into their rations.

"So what's it like living in Ba Sing Se?" Basam asked suddenly, helping himself to a second portion of the dried fruit and pig-chicken jerky that comprised their dinner. Kuei paused with a strip of dried meat halfway to his mouth and glanced at the Sandbender.

Zafirah glanced at the two of them, but didn't chime in. She took another strip of jerky and looked expectantly at him, as did Basam. Once again, he wondered how much he ought to tell them.

"I was a student," he began slowly, "I had just graduated from the University of Ba Sing Se when the coup happened." He'd had plenty of tutors from the University, so it wasn't entirely untrue.

"Student, huh? Did you ever take any classes with, uh, now what was his name…" She drummed her fingers against her knee. "Zei! There we go. Professor Zei, 'head of Anthropology and expert on exotic cultures'." She rolled her eyes.

"Uh, no, that… that wasn't my field of study," Kuei said quickly. That name was so familiar… where had he heard it before? "You didn't get along well with him, I assume?"

"What I didn't get along with was the notion of bein' an 'exotic culture'," she replied with an annoyed snort.

"He had a bad habit of talking to us all like we were slow in the head," Basam explained, tapping the side of his head. "He'd show up every couple of months to make 'expeditions' searching for some Spirit Library, didn't even know for sure if it existed or not!"

Of course, that was it! Aang and his friends had mentioned a Professor Zei. It was at that same Spirit Library that they'd found information about the solar eclipse. He took a hasty sip of his allotted water to cover his surprise.

"And he'd wander off into the open desert to hunt for the damned thing, and we _tried_ tellin' him it was dangerous—" Zafirah added in.

"—But he brushed us off every time, like he knew our desert better than us—" Basam continued.

"He was the 'expert' after all, hah!" Zafirah snorted.

"He'd drag his sorry behind back to the oasis a few days later, half-dead from thirst and the heat—no luck on the library, of course," Basam added. "Then he'd plop himself down at the bar and hit the sake a _little_ too hard, and he'd get going on a rant about 'those nearsighted, narrow-minded ignoramuses who dare call themselves scholars' back at the University…"

Kuei had to laugh at Basam's impersonation of the professor. "He sounds like quite the character, this professor," he remarked.

"Yeah. He's annoying and kinda insulting, but I guess he's harmless. Except to himself, maybe," Zafirah jibed. Then she paused, head tilted as she considered it, and added, "Come to think of it, we never did see him again after he went out there with the Avatar's gang, did we?"

"Huh, I guess not," Basam mused. "He wasn't with 'em when we found them at Si Wong Rock. No one at the Oasis mentioned him comin' back either."

An awkward silence fell, broken after a moment by Bosco whining slightly. Basam coughed and bit into the strip of jerky still in his hand. Oh, now Kuei remembered; one of the Avatar's friends had mentioned it. Zei had chosen to remain in the library when the Knowledge Spirit had sunken it… he was likely dead by now.

"Anyway, we should get some rest," Zafirah said. "Still got a lot of distance to cover and a lot to be done when we get there."

They settled in to sleep soon after that, with Zafirah and Basam huddled at one end of the makeshift tent and Kuei at the other, and Bosco nestled between him and them. It didn't seem intentional that they'd separated themselves like that, yet it had happened anyway. The light mood during dinner had passed, and the solemnity that had accompanied their departure from the Oasis hung heavily in the air as Kuei drifted off.

* * *

_Two days later…_

Zafirah's arms ached every time she swung them back and forth. Her thighs and calves burned in her Bending stance. Her head throbbed from constant concentration. She was about ready to Bend this sailer right into the nearest sand dune.

Normally, a sand sailer crew could make the trip to Si Wong Rock in a day and a half if they were really hauling it. Two days was the usual time it took. That was with a full crew, of course, who could take turns propelling the glider. With just the two of them, they were still a day's journey out. To make matters worse, they were entering the Spirits' Furnace now. The dunes had flattened out into the vast plains that surrounded Si Wong Rock. It was only going to get hotter from there on out.

When they finally halted a few hours after sunrise, Zafirah barely had the energy to climb down from her platform. She flopped backwards onto the sand with a groan, landing spread-eagled with a heavy thump.

"Good night," she proclaimed, draping her arm across her forehead. "I'm done." She heard another thud and peeked out from beneath her arm. Basam had jumped down from his post and shuffled over to join her, plopping facedown on the ground.

A shadow fell across her as Kuei leaned over them. "You both look exhausted," he remarked, sounding concerned.

"You're not an Earthbender, are you?" Basam guessed. "It's not easy, Bending for hours like that."

Kuei stayed silent for a moment, then he said, "If you'd like, I could try to set up the tent myself. I'm sure I can recall all of the steps involved. That way, the two of you can just rest."

Zafirah peered out from under her arm again, squinting up at him. He was studying the sailer intently, resting one elbow on his fist as he rubbed his chin contemplatively with his other hand. Her first instinct was skepticism, but at that point, she was too tired to argue. If he messed up, she and Basam would just fix it. Besides, he had helped them set up and break down their camp the past two days, and he'd done well enough with it.

"All right, thanks," she mumbled from beneath her arm, waving her other hand carelessly.

"Excellent! Now, let's see here…" Kuei said, and Zafirah heard his footsteps crunching away from them on the sand. She'd stay alert, keep an ear out for any signs that he might be struggling with the task. It wasn't like he had a lot of experience with sand sailers, the last thing they needed was damage to their rig. But her eyelids were so heavy, and she could feel the knots in her muscles unwinding as the heat from the sand and the sun seeped into her bones…

The next thing she knew, Basam was nudging her arm with his toes. "Wakey wakey, time to wake up so we can eat and go right back to sleep!" he said cheerfully.

She sat up groggily and rubbed her eyes with the backs of her wrapped-up hands. "He got the tent set up?" she asked around a yawn.

"Yeah! Did a pretty decent job, too," Basam told her. Zafirah stood up and walked around to the front of the sailer where Kuei stood, sweating profusely but smiling proudly and crossing his arms. She yanked off her visor and stared at the tent, where the sailcloth was stretched tight and the ropes pulled taut and staked down, just like they were supposed to be. It wasn't quite as neatly done as usual, but it was certainly good enough. He really had been paying attention when he'd helped them do it. She felt a slight pang of guilt at her earlier doubts, but shrugged the feeling off. They hadn't been unreasonable doubts, right?

"You, uh, you did good. Thanks for helping," she remarked, still surprised.

"You're welcome," Kuei replied, just a little smugly. Ordinarily she might've been annoyed, but he'd kind of earned it. He had just proved her wrong, after all, and it wasn't often that an outsider could make that claim.

They ate their dinner quietly. As she chewed, Zafirah glanced at Kuei from the corner of her eye. Maybe it _hadn't_ been a terrible idea to bring him along. It _was_ possible that maybe she was being slightly too hard on him. He was doing pretty well for someone who had never been to the desert before. He hadn't even complained once about the heat, and he had picked up his navigational duties quickly enough. As far as she could tell, he had nothing to gain from being out here with them. And even if he _did_ have some kind of selfish motive, what could he do in the middle of the desert? If anything, he'd put himself at a massive disadvantage by going with them. He'd be at their mercy if they had a mind to hurt him, unless he had some secret fighting skills that he'd hidden very, very well.

So, if Kuei had nothing to gain and everything to lose by following them into the desert, then that only left one option: he really was helping them because he wanted to. And while it would be nice to have one less thing to worry about, it didn't actually make her any less uneasy. Zafirah had entertained the possibility back at the Oasis, and now there was even more proof to it. She snuck another sideways glance at Kuei; he bit into a particularly thick piece of jerky and gnawed on it with so much effort that he winced and gingerly rubbed his black eye.

 _Yeah, this doofus isn't plotting anything, there's no way,_ Zafirah decided. Which left her with the alarming fact that this weird tourist genuinely wanted to help them. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that.

* * *

They'd been sailing across the desert for days now, but as Kuei lay there beneath the sand sailer, it was then that the reality of the situation seemed to fully sink in. The airy marble halls and clean silk clothes of the royal palace felt like they existed in a different lifetime. It hadn't even been two weeks since he'd left Ba Sing Se, but it already felt like a distant memory. The soft sand beneath his back, the rough wooden planks of the sailer above his head, the quiet breathing of the Sandbender twins close by, Bosco's furry bulk curled up beside him… he was so keenly aware of it all, suddenly. After years of reading about young men who went off on epic quests and legendary journeys, now it was actually happening to him.

Of course, this wasn't some old legend. His throat was constantly parched and he was always hungry— the food and water rations were never enough to fully satisfy. He was sticky and itchy from the dried sweat caked onto his skin. But he wasn't going to complain. He had volunteered for this and he'd known that it would be hard. And of course, the difficulty for him was nothing compared to what the Sandbender twins had to endure. That was why he'd offered to set up the tent by himself— not being an Earthbender, it was all he could do to make himself useful. It wasn't as if he could help them power the sailer.

And speaking of the tent that they now slept under… Kuei had seen the shock on Zafirah's face. She hadn't really believed that he'd be able to raise the tent on his own. Perhaps she'd expected him to do it wrong, or give up and ask for help. Then again, the fact that she'd been surprised wasn't really a surprise itself. There was no denying that she'd been suspicious and even a little derisive towards him from the start— and yet she'd also taken him into her home, shared a meal and a friendly conversation, and even joked around with him a bit. They had even shared a moment or two of solidarity in the wake of the massacre.

It was only when he'd offered his assistance as a navigator at the Oasis that she'd been truly hostile. _You sure are helpful, huh,_ she'd snapped. He wasn't entirely sure what ulterior motives she thought he might have, but she obviously had doubts about him. The Oasis did have a reputation for attracting a particularly unsavory clientele, so it wasn't hard to imagine that she might have dealt with some disreputable characters over the years.

He'd never had true friends before, not once in his entire life— aside from Bosco, of course. Long Feng had kept him carefully isolated, and although the Avatar and his friends were wise and kind beyond their years, they were still so young. That night at the Oasis, sitting with Zafirah and Basam, it was the first time since before Aang's arrival in Ba Sing Se that he'd felt truly at ease. Kuei still didn't know why Zafirah had opened her home and hearth to him, but the camaraderie that had come with it… that had felt so very _real_.

Granted, his presence on this voyage with them was born of necessity, but they hadn't exactly been treating him coldly— Basam had been friendly and conversational since their departure, and even Zafirah had given up her harsh edge, though she remained distant. Perhaps she wouldn't fully trust him until he had left the desert without incident. He knew he'd probably never see them again after this was over… and yet, he couldn't stop remembering that feeling of companionship, that warmth. Was that, too, born of necessity? He shifted uncomfortably on the sand. He didn't want to believe that it was true; it would be nice, he thought, to have friends like them.

* * *

The winds had picked up while they were asleep that day, sweeping across the dunes from the southwest. Basam peered out into the sunset-lit desert, shielding his eyes against the grains of sand flying on the breeze. This weather had 'problem' written all over it.

"Not a good sign," he muttered to Zafirah as they repacked the sailer.

"Yeah, no kidding," Zafirah whispered back. "Think we're headed for trouble?"

"Could be. Probably, with the way things're going for us lately. Let's not scare the tourist just yet, though," Basam remarked dryly. Kuei seemed like a decent enough guy, fairly level-headed, although unusually helpful for an outsider, but Basam reckoned that the news of a possible sandstorm might ruffle a few of his feathers.

"We'll keep this between us for now," Zafirah agreed. They glanced over at Kuei, who waved back at them before turning his attention to coaxing Bosco up to his spot. "Spirits and ancestors," Zafirah groaned. "What a mess this is."

"What, Kuei being here? You were the one that agreed to let him tag along and help out," Basam said, confused.

"No, not that— I mean, that too. It's kinda weird having some random tourist along for the haul," she muttered, then sighed and added quietly, "But it's… everything. _Everything_ is a mess."

Basam clasped his hands behind his head and shrugged. "Hey, it could probably be worse."

"How? How could this possibly be worse?" she demanded.

"Gimme a minute, I'm sure I'll think of something," he answered wryly.

"Thanks, that's helpful," Zafirah grumbled. But the corner of her mouth ticked upward slightly. She put her visor on and fixed her headscarves into place.

"Sure thing, sister," he said, shooting her a crooked grin. Well, he couldn't just let his twin mope, could he? Even if he was hurting just as bad as she was. He thought about those from the Janan tribe that had gone to live in the deep desert, and his heart ached to see them again. He could only hope it wouldn't take long to track them down. Seeing their faces, safe and sound, would make all the difference in the world.

When Basam climbed up to his spot on the sailer's right-hand side, Kuei and Bosco were already up at the navigator's post. Kuei had a hand lifted to shield his eyes and was scanning the desert ahead of the sailer.

"It certainly is flat out here," he remarked. "Quite a change from the dunes we've been crossing."

"We're in the Spirits' Furnace now," Basam explained. "This is the deep desert. You know the part of the map that they don't fill in? You're in it. We're out in the wild now, buddy."

Kuei's hand faltered, dropping to his side. "Oh," he said.

"Scared?" Basam jibed lightly. Kuei shook his head quickly and hastened to adjust his headscarves.

"No, no," he insisted. Basam chuckled dryly and took up a Bending stance, waiting for the signal from Zafirah. Kuei was an odd guy, but he'd had worse company on a sand sailer.

The winds were getting stronger still. As they sailed on, deeper into the desert, Basam had a feeling that they were about to find out how much worse things could be.

* * *

After sailing through the night, Si Wong Rock appeared on the horizon at dawn the following day. The ache in Basam's muscles seemed to get fainter at the sight of it, pushed back by a surge of anticipation. Even though he was sweltering in the sun's heat already, his energy felt renewed.

"Short rest today! Tell Zafirah!" Basam yelled up to Kuei. He nodded down to him, then turned and shouted over to Zafirah. The winds were with them, catching their sail and pushing them forward. They'd take a break during the hottest hours of the day to rest, but it'd be a waste of time to halt for the entire day. Sleep would wait till they arrived. If they hauled hard, maybe they could make it to Si Wong Rock before these winds turned into a storm. Better yet, maybe the winds would die down and the storm would miss them entirely. It didn't seem likely, but he could dream.

They took a short break in the middle of the day. There wasn't much conversation— Basam and his sister ate their lunch quickly, their eyes fixed on Si Wong Rock. Kuei stayed quiet as well, and even his pet kept silent. Maybe they could feel the tension in the air.

Basam couldn't keep his eyes off the towering rock. It seemed to grab his peripheral vision, even when he wasn't looking directly at it. He couldn't stop thinking of what was to come when they got there. They'd reach the rock soon enough, and from there they could pass on the warning to any other tribes they might be able to find. And then… well, there'd probably be another attack from the Fire Nation before too long. With airships on their side, it would be easy to spot the deep-desert tribes from above. The Sandbenders would fight back, of course. There was no way they'd sit around and wait for defeat. But how much could they actually do against machines like those? How long could they really hold out against the Fire Nation's endless supply of soldiers? It wasn't like the Fire Nation would just give up, even if they did resist. Maybe they'd all wind up with the rest of the Janan tribe, in chains somewhere, doing whatever it was that the Fire Nation's laborers did.

Then again, maybe it'd all work out somehow. It didn't seem terribly likely, but Basam had never been known for his pessimism. Maybe they could evade the Fire Nation's troops somehow, maybe they could outlast the army. They'd outlasted the war for this long, anyway.

* * *

They set off again after a couple of hours, as the sun started to move west across the sky. By the time sunset approached, Si Wong Rock loomed before them, almost within reach. Zafirah's spirits lifted and she pushed even harder, making the sand tornado swell. She felt Basam pick up her pace on the other side. The strong winds howling behind them drove the sailer faster still and Zafirah's pulse hammered. They were almost there! After days and days of hard hauling and endlessly Sandbending, they could finally rest a little while they scouted for the other tribes from the rock's plateau.

The winds tore at her scarves though, and whipped at her back. The roar from the winds kept getting louder. They were struggling to keep the sailer on course already. These were bad conditions. Zafirah took a deep breath and focused all her energy on keeping the sailer moving. It'd be a close call— could they make it to Si Wong Rock before these winds became a storm?

The dark bulk of the rock grew bigger and bigger before them as the sailer flew across the sand. They were so close to shelter, if they could just…!

"Za-Zafirah? Basam?!" Kuei shouted down, voice shaking. "Behind us!"

She glanced back over her shoulder and her blood ran cold. "Oh, Spirits, no… not now!" she gasped. Luck wasn't on their side, after all— a churning, roiling sandstorm thundered towards them. This one was a monster: it towered almost as high as Si Wong Rock itself, and its seething front stretched for miles across the plains of the Furnace. Lightning crackled through its upper reaches. She could already feel grains of sand stinging the uncovered parts of her face as the storm's furious winds lashed at their sailer.

The sailer lurched forward as the sand tornado surged between the hulls. The lurch shook Zafirah from her dread and she tore her eyes off the storm. Basam had picked up the pace on his side and she threw herself into her Bending to match him. Si Wong Rock was dead ahead— they had to reach the leeward side before the storm caught them!

Zafirah's hands shook as they pushed the sailer faster and faster. Her blood thrummed with terror, her pulse pounding and stomach churning. The sailer rocked as the winds grabbed it, and she clenched her teeth. They were so close now, if they could just make it a little further!

* * *

Kuei held tight to the rails on either side of his post, and Bosco huddled behind him. The sailer shuddered and bounced under his feet, but he knew he'd be as good as dead if he lost his balance and fell off. The roar of the sandstorm drowned out all else, even the hammering of his own heartbeat in his ears. The raw fear that shook him to his bones now was different than what he'd felt at the Oasis, facing that soldier— soldiers were human, and they could be stopped. They could be fought. This thundering behemoth behind them couldn't be stopped, or distracted, or diverted, and all he wanted was to _hide_ from it.

The storm gained on them and even though the sailer raced across the sand, Si Wong Rock was still so far ahead! Surely there was no way they could get there in time. The storm would devour them before they could even get close! His knuckles popped as he gripped the rails tighter still.

* * *

Zafirah and Basam pushed the sailer even faster— she'd never imagined a team of just two Sandbenders could even haul this fast. Si Wong Rock loomed bigger and bigger in front of them, closer and closer. _We can make it!_ she thought urgently. All grace and technique had gone from her Sandbending by now; she was shaking too hard to maintain any kind of form. She whipped the sand tornado into a whirling frenzy; it would get unstable soon, she knew that, but what other choice was there? A full sailer crew could've held back a storm this big, but with only two of them and both already exhausted… Outrunning it was their only shot.

The face of Si Wong Rock towered in front of them and they swerved the sailer to the right, cutting an arc through the sand. The sailer rocked up onto one hull as it hurtled around to the side of the rock. The cliffside rushed past them in a brown-black blur and Zafirah's heart leaped into her throat. _We're gonna make it, if we can just get to the leeward side!_

The cliffside curved away beside them and they pushed the sailer to follow it; they were so close to safety! Zafirah let out a wild, breathless laugh that the roaring storm swallowed up, deafeningly loud by now—

And then the howling winds snared the back of the sailer and engulfed them. Sharp, shredding gales tore at Zafirah, and the sailer bucked sharply under her feet, thrusting up into the air. She gasped and wheeled her arms, her focus broken— the sand tornado faltered and pulsated as Basam fought to hold it, then it blasted apart into chaotic swirls. The sailer shuddered and swung sideways, wood planks groaning as the whole thing tilted up beneath her onto its left hull. She brought her arms up again, pushing hard, straining to regain control, but she was so very tired. For a long, awful moment, all she could see was the sand beneath her and she could have sworn that her heart froze in her chest.

The left hull gave way with a scream of twisting, splintering wood. The sailer flipped upwards, and she heard panicked shouts from beside her— the desert rushed up at Zafirah as the collapsing sailer flung her from her perch. She hit the sand hard, and all she heard before she faded out was the crunch of wood and the howling storm and someone screaming out…

Someone shook her shoulder and she opened her eyes— a dark shape loomed over her and pulled on her arm. Between the narrow slits in her visor and the raging storm with its densely flying sand, she couldn't tell who it was.

"Basam?" she tried to say, but her throat was bone-dry. But the hand that grabbed her didn't look like her brother's and those definitely weren't his clothes. Kuei stood up and tugged her arm, helping her to her feet. "Where's Basam?" she yelled over the storm. Kuei pointed behind her, to the dark bulk of Si Wong Rock. She could barely see it through the storm.

They waded through the storm, but they only made it a few steps before the winds nearly pushed them off their feet. Zafirah shook Kuei's hand off her sleeve and raised her arms, turning to face into the storm. It whipped at her face, stinging her skin and battering at her visor and scarves. Something had to be done or they weren't going to get very far. Taking a deep breath, she pushed against the storm— and it pushed right back. She gritted her teeth and dug her feet in, resisting. Her muscles were aching from days of Sandbending, she was just about at her limit already, but she pushed…and the sand yielded. It parted around the two of them, streaming past as if she'd put up a shield. They started making their way towards Si Wong Rock again, one slow step at a time. The shield got smaller and smaller with every footfall— Zafirah's arms were shaking from the effort of holding back the storm.

Finally, they ducked behind an outcropping of rock that stood out from the base of the cliff and the winds died down. Basam sat there, slumped against the rock, clutching his left wrist. Bosco huddled beside him and whimpered; the bear had a gash on his right shoulder. Zafirah dropped to the sand, exhausted, her head pounding. Kuei sank down next to her, coughing into the crook of his arm. Bosco scooted over to him with a low whine and Kuei gingerly examined the gash with shaking hands. The storm still raged outside their tiny shelter, and it didn't sound like it was passing anytime soon.

"So, uh… now what?" Basam said hoarsely. Zafirah tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat.

She tried again. "Now we wait it out," she said. Basam looked away; she couldn't see his expression behind his visor and headscarves. He pulled a leather pouch from his pocket and held it tightly in his right hand, turning it over and over. Zafirah knew what it was— the prayer stone that their father had carved for Basam. Zafirah had one in her pocket, too, although she couldn't remember when she'd last used it. Sandbender fathers always carved prayer stones for their children, starting on the day of their birth. They presented the stone to their child on the day of their naming ceremony. The stones came from pieces that cracked off from Si Wong Rock and fell to the desert floor.

After a few minutes, Basam started to sing; it was an old melody, sung in the Old Tongue from ages past. Zafirah joined in, her voice dry and cracking. It wasn't long before Kuei started humming the tune with them. The storm kept howling around them, and they waited.

* * *

"—Looks like some kinda Spirit monster."

"Oh, as if _you'd_ know!"

"Shut it, both of you. Show a little respect for our kinsmen."

"Sorry, Qamar."

"I'm just sayin', it isn't any animal _I've_ ever heard of—"

"I said shut it!"

The sound of voices nearby dragged Kuei back to consciousness, and he realized that he had fallen asleep at some point. Achingly bright sunlight filtered in through his eyelids as he woke up and he groaned at the sudden pain in his head, shielding his eyes with one hand.

The sudden realization that the storm had ended filtered through Kuei's muddled mind, and he dropped his hand and opened his eyes. Three Sandbenders stood before them. He could see the hazy shapes of more people behind them. Bosco stirred, shook the sand off his wide head and rumbled curiously at the strangers, making them gasp and scuttle backwards.

"What the…" Zafirah mumbled. She sat up and peered blearily at the new arrivals. "Who… are…" The shortest of the three stepped towards them and yanked down the scarf covering her mouth.

"Zafi?" she asked incredulously. "That really you?" She was pushed aside by the taller one, who scrambled over and crouched down.

"Zafirah?!" he echoed, sounding horrorstruck. "Son of a hogmonkey! What're you doing out in a sandstorm? Basam, is that you, too?!"

"Nice to see you too, Shai," muttered Zafirah. The newcomers gathered around and helped the three of them to their feet, and brought them out into the glare of the morning sun. A cloudless blue sky stretched overhead, with no trace of the sandstorm. Kuei got an unpleasant shock when he looked back at their sheltered spot—sand had heaped up around the rock outcropping, all but hiding it from the front.

As if acting on an unspoken signal, all of the Sandbenders unmasked and faced each other. Kuei followed their lead, pulling down his face coverings and adjusting his eyeglasses. Row upon row of copper-brown faces sprang into focus, peering curiously at their trio.

"Who are they?" he whispered to Zafirah. She stuffed her visor into her pocket and smiled wearily. Despite her obvious exhaustion, it was a smile brimming with relief.

"They're the Aqila Tribe," she murmured.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mission accomplished! But what will happen next? Well, TBH you already know if you’ve read the old version, but let’s pretend this is entirely new to us, okay? It’s more fun that way, right? See you in Chapter 4! I’d love to hear some thoughts on this story, so please feel free to drop a comment or two! Questions, critiques, things you like about it, concerns, throw them all directly at my face plz.


	4. Aqila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuei, Zafirah, and Basam set out to find the other Sandbender tribes. They have a grim warning to pass along. Having found the Aqila tribe, the trio takes a well-earned rest after their trek across the desert. But with time to breathe comes time to think, and questions arise. What will happen amidst all these new faces?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Here we are at Chapter 4. I’ve been wrestling with Chapter 5— I wanted to hold off on posting Chapter 4 till Chapter 5 was done, but I’m basically rewriting 5 from scratch and real-life events have recently wrecked my motivation. December wasn’t a good month for me. I haven’t gotten much writing done in the past few weeks and I’m not sure when things will be back to normal, but I’m trying. In the meantime, I wanted to get the next chapter posted so that we could squeeze one more update in before the new year (it’s still December 31st here at the time of posting this). So, even though I'm limping along here… let’s get rolling!

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR—AQILA**

A slender woman with hawk-like features stepped forward. She looked to be in her forties or fifties, perhaps, and moved with an unmistakable air of strength and authority. She had a smooth, stalking gait like a tigerdillo. But when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly soft and lilting.

"Zafirah and Basam of the Janan Tribe," she remarked. "It certainly has been a while, hasn't it?" She then lifted her hands to them and proclaimed, "We welcome you, friends born of our sister tribe. May you find peace and shelter within our caravan."

Kuei recognized the intonation of ritual speech. He'd heard it often enough in the Royal Court. Bosco huddled behind him as he watched the scene unfolding before him; the bear whined quietly and Kuei anxiously thought of the gash on his pet's shoulder. Zafirah and Basam echoed the movement and bowed their heads as they lifted their own hands.

"We thank you, chieftain of our sister tribe," said Basam. "May the Spirits bless our reunion."

With the ritual greeting done, Zafirah sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. "Qamar, we got some bad news. Really bad," she said grimly.

"The Fire Nation attacked the Misty Palms Oasis a few days ago. Every last one of our kin at the Oasis got rounded up and hauled off. The Fire Nation's got these flying machines now, we were completely outmatched," Basam explained.

"And it gets worse, too. They're comin' back for more," Zafirah added. "The commander in charge of the attack, he said they'll be returning soon to capture the rest of us."

"Spirits and ancestors," Qamar breathed, paling in horror. "If they have the power to travel through the skies now, then none of us are safe anymore."

"Exactly," Zafirah agreed bitterly. "They can go as far into the desert as they want, and they're in the market for more slaves. Sounds like they mean to take as many as they can."

Qamar nodded slowly as she processed this, and then she noticed Kuei and turned to him with a scrutinizing stare. "And who is the outsider you've brought here?" she asked, wariness etched into her weathered face.

"This is Kuei of Ba Sing Se," Zafirah told her. "He's not a threat to us, he's on our side. He did what he could to help us fight off the Fire Nation that night, and he helped us cross the Spirits' Furnace." Here she hesitated, and Kuei saw her eyes dart sideways towards him. "I owe him my life."

This got another reaction from the crowd. Several of the Sandbenders murmured amongst themselves as they eyed Kuei. They weren't the only ones surprised—surely Zafirah was referring to the Fire Nation soldier that'd tried to ambush her at the Oasis. She _had_ mentioned that she hadn't seen the attack coming. Did she really see herself as being indebted to him? That certainly hadn't been his intention!

Still, she'd referred to him as being on their side— did that mean she was coming to trust him now? Of course, their agreement had been that he would leave the desert once they'd found another Sandbender tribe to warn; they'd accomplished that goal, so he would surely be parting ways with them soon. If she _was_ having a change of heart, it would only matter in hindsight now. He felt a slight pang at the realization.

Qamar nodded, apparently satisfied with this explanation. "All right, then. We welcome you, Kuei of Ba Sing Se, ally of the Janan Tribe."

"I thank you, Qamar of the Aqila Tribe," Kuei replied, bowing deeply. If there was one thing Kuei understood, it was courtly rituals. Qamar nodded in satisfaction, then motioned for Zafirah and Basam to join her a few paces away. As they walked past Kuei to go to her, Zafirah lightly rapped his shoulder with her knuckles. He jumped slightly at the unexpected contact.

"We can probably salvage some of the supplies from our sailer. Mind doing a little digging while we talk to Qamar?" she asked.

"Oh— that's a good idea!" Kuei remarked. "Of course."

"You can probably round up some of these guys to help," she added, jerking her thumb towards the Aqila tribespeople. Kuei nodded and she left, patting him once on the shoulder as she went.

As the two siblings went to talk with Qamar, Kuei hoped that they'd be on their way soon. The cut on Bosco's shoulder wasn't too terribly deep, but it was still worrisome. He wanted to get some medicine on it sooner rather than later. He bent down and scratched behind Bosco's ear reassuringly. Then he turned to the rest of the Sandbenders, about twenty in total, and found all of them staring right at him. He froze and stared back, suddenly at a loss for words. They were all watching him expectantly and he flushed slightly under their focused attention.

"Uh… if I might ask a favor of you," he ventured. "We had quite a lot of supplies on our sailer, and some of them might still be salvageable…" He turned hastily to look for the sailer, or whatever was left of it. A few of the Sandbenders edged closer while he searched for it, as if he were a wild animal to be approached with utmost caution.

 _Oh… there it is,_ he realized. The upended wreck sat half-buried in sand some distance away— it was, in fact, well beyond where they'd hidden. The entire wreck had tumbled several yards past Si Wong Rock. Kuei gaped at the tangled wreckage, stunned, and extremely grateful that none of them had ended up over there with it.

"W-well, um… if any of you would care to accompany me…" he asked, laughing half-heartedly. He turned and started to make his way across the sand, and five of the Sandbenders filed after him. One of them, a young man, hurried to catch up to him.

"You're really from Ba Sing Se?" he asked.

"Yes, that's right," Kuei said, mustering a smile in spite of his sudden nerves.

"I heard the Fire Nation took over the whole place, did that actually happen?" the Sandbender asked, sounding more curious than worried.

"I'm afraid it's true," Kuei told him, swallowing down a stab of guilt.

"How did you get out of there?" the boy asked again.

"Luck?" Kuei tried, sweating uncomfortably.

"I heard that the Earth King fled the city, did that happen too?" the boy pushed. Kuei's step faltered, his mouth suddenly going dry. His stomach churned; had word really spread so fast? But before Kuei could even try to respond, a young woman grabbed the boy's arm and pushed him aside.

"C'mon, knock it off! Don't be rude," she chided. She whirled around, tugged down the cloth covering her nose and mouth, and beamed up at Kuei; she was quite short, the top of her head not even reaching his shoulder. "Sorry about that! I bet you probably don't wanna talk about that stuff."

"It _is_ a rather sore subject," Kuei agreed, clearing his throat uncomfortably. She was right, but for all the wrong reasons. Still beaming sweetly, she sidled closer.

"So, your name is Kuei, right?" she asked. "I'm Amaris!"

"It's nice to meet you," he said, smiling back at her.

"What's that beastie you got over there? He's so fluffy!" Amaris said, peeking at Bosco over her shoulder.

"Oh, that's Bosco! He's a bear. He came with me from Ba Sing Se," Kuei told her.

"A bear, huh? I've never heard of any animal like that before," she commented.

"Bosco is quite uncommon," he said proudly. But his smile faltered as he remembered the wound on Bosco's shoulder. "Actually, I'd like to find some medicine from our supplies as soon as possible. I'm afraid Bosco got injured when the sailer crashed, he needs to be tended to right away," he told Amaris urgently.

"Don't worry, we'll take care of it," Amaris reassured him. "We can get that wreckage dug up and raided in no time, just you wait and see! Let's hurry!" She grabbed his arm and pulled him along. He stumbled after her, startled by the sudden contact. But as they ran along, all he could think of was that boy's last question, echoing in his head.

The wreckage of the glider creaked and groaned from the pressure of the sand piled against it. Kuei approached it cautiously, but the Sandbenders walked right up and got to work. They pushed the sand away with great sweeps of their arms, and it wasn't long before the wreck began to shift and lean, its shattered planks screeching. The Sandbenders jumped back as it toppled over and crashed down in a cloud of sand. Kuei stared in amazement, then ran over to it and started searching for usable supplies. The Sandbenders join in, dismantling the wreckage as they went.

Soon enough, they'd excavated everything they could take from the sailer. Once Kuei found the pack with medicine in it, he seized it and sprinted back to Bosco, who hadn't budged from their hiding spot. As he did, he saw Zafirah and Basam still in deep conversation with Qamar. They were far enough away that he couldn't hear their words, but he could see the twins' solemn expressions. He wondered briefly what they were discussing. Bosco spotted him and sat up, favoring his right leg.

"It's all right, Bosco! I found plenty of medicine, you'll be healed up in no time at all!" Kuei assured him. He crouched down beside the bear and tugged at the ties holding the pack shut. In his haste, he fumbled with them for a moment before the pack finally opened. As he rummaged through the pack for bottles that might be disinfectant, hoping they would be labeled, someone appeared in his peripheral vision.

"Need any help with that?" she asked. He looked up to see Amaris standing there, leaning forward with her hands on her knees.

"Oh… well…" He examined the supplies in the pack, and immediately saw a problem: he'd done plenty of reading on the subject of medicine, but he really didn't know how to put it into practice. Turning to Amaris, he asked, "I don't suppose you have much experience with treating wounds…?"

"As a matter of fact, I do!" she proclaimed, smiling widely. Crouching down next to Kuei, she took the supply pack from his hands and made a shooing gesture. "You keep him calm, I'll get this little problem all taken care of."

Kuei nodded and moved to sit on front of Bosco, stroking the top of his head while Amaris cleaned and treated the wound on his shoulder. It was over and done with sooner than he'd expected— Amaris sat back on her heels and nodded in satisfaction.

"There, see? He's all patched up," she told him, smiling sweetly. Sure enough, the wound had been bandaged neatly and Bosco was hardly favoring the leg; he sat with his right forepaw almost flat on the ground. The bear gurgled happily and licked Amaris's cheek. She giggled and patted Bosco's head.

Kuei couldn't help but smile himself as he studied her handiwork. "Thank you, Amaris, that was some swift work!" he remarked.

"Yeah, well, we all kinda know basic healing stuff like that out here," she replied with a casual shrug— downplaying the praise, but her proud little grin said otherwise.

With Bosco patched up, Kuei went to see what the rest of the group was doing. The other Sandbenders were busily taking apart the wrecked sailer, organizing parts of it into different piles. Amaris hurried over to help them and Kuei followed, figuring he could at least offer his assistance. Given the wary glances they'd shown him before, he wasn't sure that they'd accept it. Bosco trundled along behind him, only limping slightly now.

As he'd suspected, the Sandbenders waved away his offer of help; they clearly had their own system for this and he imagined that they wouldn't want an outsider getting in the way. So instead he lugged the cargo away from the wreck as they pulled it out, helping them to pile it all up. It was all he could do for the moment.

Eventually, the Sandbenders finished dismantling the sailer and they bundled all of the useful bits onto the Aqila tribe's own sailers. Amaris went off to assist them, waving goodbye with a wiggle of her fingers as she left. Zafirah and Basam rejoined him, and Qamar strode off to the sailer at the head of the group.

"Time to go," Zafirah announced. "We're heading back with these guys to the rest of the Aqila tribe."

"Oh— of course," Kuei said, taken off-guard. He couldn't help but feel a slight flash of disappointment. He'd known that he would have to say goodbye to these two soon, but this was so abrupt! "I suppose this is where we part ways, then?"

"Huh? What're you talking about?" Zafirah remarked, raising her eyebrows. "I said 'we', didn't I? You're coming too, at least for a little bit."

"Turns out that this was a supply run— they just came back from the desert's edge, they gotta get back to their encampment to switch out their crews before they can make another run out there," Basam explained.

Smiling wryly, Zafirah added, "Sorry, you're stuck with us for a couple more days."

"Ah, I see!" Kuei exclaimed, and he was actually somewhat relieved. Not to mention, he was curious to see the Aqila tribe encampment. Zafirah didn't look relieved, though, as they walked towards the Aqila sailers— she frowned contemplatively at him from the corner of her eye. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Remember when I said some tribes aren't terribly friendly to outsiders? I can't say for sure what kind of a welcome you're about to get," she cautioned him. Perhaps he was imagining it, but he thought she sounded a little apologetic.

Ah, yes— he did recall her mentioning that. He nodded solemnly, his enthusiasm tempered by sudden self-consciousness as they waited to be told which sailer to board. This wasn't a social visit, after all, and these Aqila Sandbenders certainly hadn't sailed out expecting to find a random outsider from Ba Sing Se that day. Well, he'd just have to rein in his curiosity, difficult though that might be, and do his best to be mindful during his stay with the tribe.

The Aqila tribe's sailers were larger than the one that they had arrived on; two people stood on each of the platforms to power the sailer, and three stood at the navigator's post— one stood at the compass while another unrolled a map, and the third seemed to be taking up a position as a lookout. The Sandbenders who weren't crewing the sailers piled into the hulls, or sat on the platforms behind the crew. Kuei and his companions ended up in one of the hulls, virtually by themselves— several of the other Sandbenders had switched to the opposite hull to counterbalance Bosco's weight.

It wasn't a long journey to the Aqila encampment, but Kuei had more time alone with his thoughts than he would have liked. That boy's question wouldn't leave him alone. He'd known that word of the coup was spreading quickly; as he'd traveled down the coast, the news had been one step ahead of him. He'd heard people discussing the Fire Nation princess's infiltration, which made sense— naturally, the Fire Nation would want to brag about their princess's victory. And he'd even heard fleeting whispers of a traitor who'd aided the coup; of course, Kuei knew that traitor to be Long Feng, but none of the gossip he'd overheard had involved that man's name.

But he'd had no idea that word of his own escape had spread as well— and to think it had reached as far as the desert by now… Were people blaming him for the coup? He couldn't blame them if they were. Although… now that he thought of it, would he face anger if the truth of his identity came out? He'd worried briefly about bounty hunters sent by the Fire Nation, but it didn't seem likely that they'd consider him a threat… but perhaps the wrath of his kingdom was a greater danger. And yet, if the people of the Earth Kingdom hated him for his failure to protect Ba Sing Se… were they even wrong? He slumped down, arms folded on the edge of the hull, and rested his chin on his arms. That boy's words kept rattling around in his head.

They sailed through the morning, with the crews switching out to avoid weariness. The sun rose as they traveled, and the sun beat down harshly on their backs. By mid-afternoon, their caravan sailed in between two towering sand dunes and slowed down. Kuei stood up to see where they'd arrived to, and his eyes went wide at the sight.

He counted forty sand sailers, even bigger than the ones in the caravan, and each one had a tent set up behind it. They stood arrayed in a massive circle, hulls facing outward to protect the tents. The camp was quiet; Kuei assumed that everyone must be sleeping. Only a few people bustled about, but they quickly took notice of the sand sailers as they glided up to the circle and came to a halt. As the caravan's crews began disembarking, someone within the camp shouted out.

"The foraging party's back!" a man yelled. Just like that, the camp swarmed to life! People emerged from their tents and hurried over to greet the returning party, chattering excitedly. Kuei was still staring in amazement; this camp was larger by far than the Oasis! He'd had no idea that there were Sandbender settlements of this size. All of the texts he'd ever read on the desert had made the Sandbender tribes sound small and disorganized, and this was neither.

"This is incredible!" Kuei marveled. Bosco clambered out of the hull and toppled to the sand with a heavy thump beside him, and Kuei chuckled, reaching down to pat the bear's head. "Look at this, Bosco! What a sight this is!"

"Never seen anyone get so excited over a bunch of sand sailers before," Basam chortled, clapping Kuei on the shoulder as he passed by.

"I never imagined that the Aqila camp would be this big!" Kuei remarked.

"Yeah, there's a lot more of us out here than most folks seem to think," Basam conceded, then he grinned and added dryly, "Scared yet?"

"It's marvelous," Kuei said. He was starting to realize just how wrong the tomes in the royal library had been. _There's still so much I don't know_ , he thought in awe, and a bit of dismay. How had he been so ignorant his whole life? Well, he knew why— it was Long Feng's manipulation, at least in part. He'd grown up hidden away from the world by virtue of his station in life, and by design thanks to Long Feng's ambitious greed. But now he had a chance to change that, and to open his own eyes. The Avatar and his friends had started the process, and now it was his task to continue his own awakening. There was no reason for him to remain the "king fool" any longer.

As soon as they disembarked from the sailers, the young man named Shai was at Zafirah's side in an instant, leading her aside and gently lifting her chin with one hand. Kuei recognized him as one of the three Sandbenders that had unearthed them after the storm.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Zafirah muttered.

"You sure?" Shai asked with a frown.

"Just a little shaken up. I'm fine." She gave him a thin-lipped smile and lifted one of her hands to grasp his, squeezing softly. Although, even as she said it, Kuei wondered how true it was; she'd been silent on the Aqila sand sailer, staring absently out into the desert as they'd traveled. He didn't have time to wonder about it, though; Amaris darted through the milling crowd and bumped her shoulder up against his arm, smiling widely.

"Ah, he-hello," he said, flushing slightly at her sudden and unexpected proximity.

"Hi again! C'mon, let's go help unload the sailers," she chimed. "Once that's done I'll show you around the camp!" Linking her arm through his, she led him back to the sand sailer. He felt his face get redder at how close his arm was to her chest; this was _definitely_ something that had never happened before.

As they waited to have cargo from the sailer handed down to them, Kuei glanced back at Zafirah, who was still talking with Shai. Her gaze flicked up and their eyes met for a moment; her face was blank, inscrutable. She looked back to Shai and Kuei was left to wonder what was really going on.

Loaded down with crates and burlap sacks, Kuei trudged after Amaris as she made her way across the camp. His arms were already straining and he was focusing very, very hard on not tripping. Amaris, on the other hand, carried her own cargo as if it were a sack of feathers.

"This way!" she called over her shoulder. He followed her to the middle of the circle, where the rest of the foraging party had already laid out the newly-acquired cargo. As he watched, more and more of the tribespeople started to gather around the growing collection of goods.

"What's happening now?" Kuei asked as they set their loads down. Amaris straightened up and pushed back her headscarves slightly, wiping her forehead.

"It's loot time!" she said cheerfully. "Everyone's gonna line up to get their share of the cargo. We got a real good haul on this run, these supplies should last us all for a while."

"So then, everyone gets their portions now? And that's it until more supplies arrive?" Kuei asked, astounded. "What if someone doesn't have enough?"

"Ahh, that hardly ever happens," Amaris assured him, waving her hand dismissively. "And even if it did, somebody else would just share theirs!"

"So everyone takes care of each other, then," Kuei remarked.

"Yeah! That way everybody is, uh, you know, taken care of," Amaris said, nodding. Kuei smiled as he watched the Sandbenders flock to the cargo pile.

As the line moved along, Kuei noticed a small crowd beginning to form around himself and Bosco. The bear reveled in it, contentedly licking the faces of the children who jostled forward to get a better look at the unfamiliar animal. Their parents were less enthused, ushering the young ones away from the bear while stealing guarded glances at Kuei.

"Everyone keeps looking at me so cautiously," he observed.

"It's not that weird, is it? You're an outsider! There's some people here who've never been to the Oasis or the desert's edge, they've never seen anybody from Ba Sing Se before," Amaris explained.

"I had no idea I was so exciting," Kuei said, mystified. Amaris giggled at that, although Kuei hadn't thought his remark had been quite that funny.

"Besides, word's probably spreading by now of why you're here, what it was that you did," she added.

"What I did?" he echoed worriedly.

"Well, sure! You're the brave hero who saved our Zafi from getting scorched," she said sweetly.

"B-brave?" Kuei echoed again, going red. He self-consciously reached to adjust his glasses, then winced as his knuckles accidentally brushed the bruise from his black eye. The salve that he'd brought from the Oasis was working well, though— the swelling was almost entirely gone already and only the bruising remained.

"Amaris, are you pestering the tourist?" Zafirah jibed as she walked by.

"No!" Amaris said swiftly, then she shot an anxious look at Kuei. "I'm not, right?"

"Oh— no, not at all," he assured her. Zafirah snorted, then turned and headed off.

"Have fun, kids. Lunchtime soon," she said as she strode away.

"She's… rather abrupt," Kuei remarked.

"Aww, don't mind her," Amaris told him. "She wouldn't have brought you along if she actually hated you that much!"

Kuei glanced at her, surprised. "You really think so?" he asked, astonished.

"Yeah! That's our Zafirah for ya, she doesn't tolerate fools even one bit," Amaris said proudly.

Kuei smiled, relieved. "You must know her quite well, then," he commented.

"We're from the Janan tribe too, me and Shai and a few others here. We came out here a few years ago to live with our sister tribe," Amaris explained. "See, here's how it is. You know how I said some people here have never really seen an outsider? Well, at the Oasis, some folks have met too many outsiders."

"What do you mean?" Kuei asked, although he had an idea or two.

"There's a whole lot of rotten people that come to the Oasis, and most outsiders have some real weird ideas about Sandbenders… makes it hard to trust anyone who isn't one of your own," Amaris said softly.

Kuei had already assumed as much, but hearing Amaris say it… well, that did confirm it. He couldn't quite bring himself to ask what sorts of unpleasant people these were— naive as he was, he could still make a few guesses. Glancing after Zafirah, he couldn't help but wonder what exactly she thought he was after.

* * *

The afternoon passed in a blur of activity as Zafirah and her traveling companions settled into the camp. As dinnertime passed and night fell, though, she found her mind wandering and her mood souring. Before, she'd just been dazed, overwhelmed by the relief of finding their kin and the Aqila Tribe. But now, with time to get lost in her thoughts of everything that had happened…

She'd excused herself and wandered off from Basam and the others, heading off to take a walk. Hiking to the top of the curved dune surrounding the camp, she sat down on the cool sand and leaned back on her hands, eyes shut. It was getting chilly now, as the day's heat faded from the desert. Heaving a sigh, Zafirah flopped backwards and stared up at the bright, cold stars overhead.

It wasn't too long before she heard the crunch of footsteps coming up the side of the dune. Zafirah tilted her head back, expecting to see Basam or Shai appearing at the crest, but it turned out to be neither of them.

"Oh— my apologies, I didn't know anyone was here," Kuei said. "I could, um, find a different sand dune to sit on if you'd like to be alone."

Zafirah considered for a moment, then sat up and shrugged. "Nah," she said, patting the sand next to her. Being alone with her thoughts wasn't helping much, anyway, and she still had a score to settle with their traveling companion. She figured she wasn't likely to get a better chance than this.

Kuei sat down cross-legged beside her, resting his hands on his knees, and looked out over the desert. Neither of them spoke for a while.

Eventually, Kuei drew a breath like he was about to say something— but he didn't. Zafirah glanced sideways at him, frowning.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, it wasn't anything important," Kuei said hastily. "Merely a stray thought… silly, really."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You just get weirder and weirder, fancy-pants. Whatever it is, just say it."

"I was just going to say that the desert looks quite beautiful in the moonlight," he said, taken aback.

Zafirah smirked thinly. "Yeah, it's real pretty when it's not tryin' to kill you."

"Fair point," Kuei agreed, then leaned back on his hands and tilted his face up to study the stars. She snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eye; he was just calmly relaxing and admiring the night sky, as if it was even remotely normal for him to be there in the desert. As if he wasn't the strangest person that had ever crossed her path.

"Why did you attack that Firebender?" The question was out before she was even aware she'd started to ask it and she clenched her jaw, quickly refocusing her attention on her toes in sudden apprehension.

"Firebender?" Kuei asked, looking over at her. "You mean, the one at the Oasis?"

She inhaled, then scooted around to face him fully. "I want to know why you charged in like that. You didn't have to risk your own neck, so why did you? Look me in the eye and tell me the truth," she challenged. The one nagging question that had been gnawing at her for days… it was time for answers. His eyes widened slightly, then he swallowed heavily and sat upright, turning towards her.

"W-well…" he started, rubbing the back of his neck and eying the sand at his feet. Her shoulders dropped slightly, bracing herself to have her suspicions confirmed, but then he sighed and lifted his head, looking her right in the eye. "Truthfully, you had opened your home to me and shown me generosity and warmth. You… you were, um, a bit harsh at the beginning, but you treated me as an equal. You laughed and talked with me and gave me shelter. It seemed cruel to stand by and watch you be slaughtered by a cowardly sneak attack." He shrugged self-consciously, breaking eye contact. "I suppose that's really the heart of it."

Zafirah gaped at him, utterly at a loss. "You're actually being serious right now," she stated.

"Have I said something wrong?" he asked, shrinking back under her astonished stare. She barked out a laugh, raking her hands through her hair and pulling strands loose from her braid. Had he? She wasn't even sure anymore.

"You're not _one of us_!" she snapped. "Why in the Spirit World do you _care_ so much?!"

He leaned away, eyebrows shooting up, mouth opening in shock. "Why do I— I could very well ask the same of you!" he retorted. "Why did you shelter me? You said yourself that you dislike tourists!"

She sputtered, taken aback. "I don't know, I… guess I felt sorry for you or something," she muttered. And that was more or less the truth; as much as outsiders irritated her, she'd felt bad for the clumsy, awkward tourist who'd very narrowly avoided an ass-kicking at the hands of Ghashiun and his cronies.

"You're right, I'm not one of you. I'm no Sandbender. But you're not— not one of _me_ either! I mean, that is to say, you're not from Ba Sing Se. If I wasn't supposed to care, then… I suppose you shouldn't have, either!" Kuei insisted, clasping his hands in his lap.

"Th-that's different," she grumbled, digging her toes into the sand. She pulled her knees to her chest and locked her arms around them, the wind gone out of her sails slightly. Huffing out a frustrated breath, she said, "Every outsider that's ever set foot in that Oasis, you wanna know how many of 'em would've done what you did? Not a damned one. Not without expecting something in return anyway. So what makes you so different, huh?"

"To be honest… in a way, I suppose I did get what I wanted," Kuei said softly.

"How's that?" she asked, confused.

Kuei was silent for a long moment, gazing up at the stars again. "I didn't have friends in Ba Sing Se. As a boy, my guardian was… strict, to say the least. I never realized it until later, but he shut me away from the world. Bosco was my only companion. But that night, when you took me into your home, when I sat by the fire with you and Basam— well, it's what I've always imagined it might feel like to sit amongst friends," he murmured.

Zafirah let out a stunned breath. "Oh… uh. I guess that explains a few things," she mumbled. There were all kinds of selfish motives she could've suspected him of harboring— she'd certainly seen her share of them over the years. It hadn't ever occurred to her that Kuei sincerely wanted to be their friend.

"I know we'll be parting ways before too long," Kuei added, "In the end, I guess it really won't make a difference. But even so, I hope you'll believe me when I say that I never expected anything from you. It was my own foolish and poorly-strategized idea to charge at that Firebender," he added with a faint smile.

She chuckled dryly. "I'm not gonna disagree with you on that part," she jibed. Then, ducking her head, she sighed deeply and added sheepishly, "Sorry. I've, uh, kinda been questioning your motives all along."

"It's all right, I don't blame you," Kuei assured her. "Amaris explained it to me earlier. You had your reasons."

Zafirah smiled, and it was the first time in days that she'd been able to do that without it feeling forced.

"Hey, speaking of Amaris, she's been hanging onto you an awful lot today. You gonna get cozy with her before you go?" she teased, pinching his arm lightly.

"Wh-what?! Why, no, I— I hardly know her!" Kuei exclaimed, waving his hands protestingly and going red as a beet-turnip.

Zafirah threw her head back and laughed. "Spirits, you really are an easy mark!" she chortled. She paused, then smiled again and added, "Y'know, you're really not too bad, for a tourist. I guess, maybe… it might be nice to have a friend like you."

Kuei beamed at her, recovering from his embarrassment. As her tension subsided, Zafirah noticed the sounds of drums and cheering drifting up from the camp below. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see what looked like the start of a pretty good party brewing in the middle of the circle. She heaved a sigh and stood up, dusting herself off.

"I'm gonna go see what all the fuss is down there. You gonna come with me?" she asked.

"You go on ahead," Kuei told her. "It's quite nice up here, I'd like to enjoy it a moment longer."

"Suit yourself! Don't mope too long, fancy-pants, you'll miss out," she chided lightly, then waved and headed off down the sand dune, feeling far more light-hearted than she had since before the attack. Even though she'd had her reasons for mistrusting Kuei, she had to admit that she was relieved to be proven wrong for once. She'd been conflicted over how to feel about a genuinely kind outsider, but in the midst of so much that had gone wrong, it was nice to have another ally. As messed up as everything else was, at least she had one less thing to worry about— and one more person she could trust.

* * *

Kuei gazed up at the glittering stars, brimming with happiness. Zafirah had said she'd like to be his friend; he had one person who counted him as a friend, for the first time. Kuei didn't know for sure that Basam would say the same, but he liked to think that he would— so, perhaps that number would increase to two soon.

Of course, he'd have to say goodbye to them before too long; that definitely was a sobering thought. It couldn't be helped though, he knew that. If nothing else, he'd simply have to appreciate his time with the two of them even more, before he ran out of it. Rising to his feet, his resolve set, he took one last look at the moonlit desert and turned to descend the slope of the dune.

In the center of the camp, he found that a loose circle had formed, bustling with cheering and laughter. He couldn't see them but he could hear several people playing drums. But as he drew closer, he saw two men fighting in the middle of the circle— there was no Sandbending, just fists pummeling and sharp kicks striking out. They grappled with each other, one pushing the other steadily back— until the tide turned and he found himself flipped onto his back! The man lay there and groaned, and the victor laughed, offering his hand to pull the defeated one up.

Kuei spotted Zafirah and Basam and hurried over to them. Bosco was sprawled behind them, grunting happily as a gaggle of children patted his fur and played with his ears and paws. Kuei smiled at the sight.

"What's all this about?" he asked as he sat down beside the twins. "Is it a brawl?"

"It's a sparring match!" Basam explained cheerfully. As he spoke, Shai jumped up from the crowd and strode into the ring, jeering a challenge at the winner.

"I'm… not sure I see the difference," Kuei admitted as Shai took a swing at the other man's face.

Zafirah chuckled and said, "Well for one thing, it's not like they're fighting for real. This here's just for fun. It's good practice for the real thing."

"I'd think that the injuries would be no less real," Kuei remarked, wincing when Shai delivered what looked like a blistering kick to his opponent's flank.

"Ah, it's not as bad as it looks.," Basam assured him. "They're both holdin' back, neither of 'em actually wants to hurt the other guy."

"See, you city people are spoiled with your fancy Bending schools," Zafirah said, gesturing dismissively. "All you _really_ need is a few lessons on the forms, a few rounds in the sparring ring every now and then, maybe some scuffles to sharpen your edge. Learning as you go is the best way to do it."

"Ah, I see!" Kuei said, smiling. "Will either of you be entering the ring, then?"

"Tempting, but probably not tonight. I'm pretty tired," Basam admitted with a slight laugh.

"We did have a pretty rough time, what with the _giant_ sandstorm and all," Zafirah agreed, the corner of her mouth quirking upward slightly. But there was something strained in that half-smile, and a certain tension in her voice when she mentioned the storm. It hadn't been there a moment ago. Kuei suddenly recalled how out of sorts she'd been earlier in the day, when they'd first arrived. Was there something more on her mind, aside from her now-alleviated suspicions about him?

Whatever it was, the renewed tension broke when Shai went flying out of the ring and rolled to a halt at their feet. He pushed himself up on his elbows and groaned. Zafirah chuckled, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning over him.

"I guess ya lost, huh?" she teased. He whined in response, rubbing the back of his head.

"C'mon, who else wants to try?!" yelled the now two-time victor, spreading his arms wide. A wiry young woman sprang up and strutted into the ring, cracking her knuckles. She toppled him with surprising ease, and managed to stay in the ring for an impressive three rounds before a stocky man took her down. And so it went, on and on, until finally…

"Well now, have you brats had your fun?" jeered Qamar. She rose up and entered the ring, drawing ooh's from the crowd. "Who will challenge me, hmm?"

"No one that wants to keep on getting fed if they should happen to win!" shouted someone in the circle, to the hoots and raucous laughter of the onlookers.

Qamar chuckled and said, "All right… I think I'll find a fresh target, then. Zafirah Janan, I challenge you!"

Zafirah sat bolt upright, then slouched and sighed ruefully. "Qamar, come on, I'm worn out! You're gonna pick on someone who just crossed the Spirits' Furnace?"

"So they don't teach fortitude at the Oasis, do they?" Qamar taunted, arms crossed.

Zafirah stared at her, blinked once, then smirked and rose to her feet. "I guess I can muster up the energy for a quick beat-down," she shot back with an almost feral grin. She rolled her neck side to side, then laced her fingers together and stretched her arms above her head, her shoulders popping.

Leaning over to Basam, Kuei whispered anxiously, "Should she be doing that? She did just say that she's tired."

"Don't worry about it, she'll be fine! That's us Sandbenders for ya, we always got energy in a pinch," Basam said proudly as she walked into the ring, then he hollered, "Show 'er how it's done, Zafi!"

Zafirah wasted no time, but she didn't run towards Qamar. She sauntered into the ring at an almost leisurely pace— and then she went right in for the attack, sprinting the last couple of steps and striking with a blazingly fast kick. Qamar blocked it and the fight was on! They broke apart, circling each other cautiously, but the lull didn't last long. For all that she'd claimed to be exhausted, Zafirah barely let up even for a moment. She kept Qamar in constant motion, driving her back and then luring her forward. Zafirah darted and twisted, keeping just out of reach, blocking and feinting.

"She's amazing!" Kuei remarked, watching in open-mouthed awe.

Basam chuckled, saying, "Yeah, she's pretty good! But Qamar is toying with her. You'll see."

Sure enough, there was a sudden and unmistakable shift as Qamar started to drive Zafirah backwards! Kuei caught the look of alarm on Zafirah's face as she nearly stumbled, but then she rallied and pushed back! He was sitting forward now, hardly even aware of it, hands clasped tensely in his lap and scarcely blinking. The pace was picking up, the blows becoming sharper and sharper, and Kuei could see the sweat glistening on Zafirah's face. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes locked intensely onto Qamar, her teeth all but bared. She nearly missed blocking Qamar's punch, and then—

She missed the next block and Qamar struck her hard. Zafirah flew back and hit the ground on her back with a thud, sliding to a stop. Qamar dropped down above her, poised with her hand at Zafirah's throat. There was a dreadfully long silence, and then the onlookers broke into mixed cheers and shouts. Qamar stood and pulled Zafirah to her feet. Kuei looked to Zafirah, wondering if she'd be upset at the defeat, but she was beaming from ear to ear. The two women clasped one another's forearms and then let go and bowed to each other.

Two more combatants were already squaring off in the ring when Zafirah came back to Basam and Kuei. She plopped down between them, panting and laughing breathlessly.

"Not bad, Zafi! Not half bad!" Basam crowed, clapping her soundly on the back.

"Guess I wasn't that tired after all, huh?" she said cheerily.

"You fought magnificently!" Kuei exclaimed. Zafirah scoffed and waved him off, but she was still grinning.

"Yeah, yeah, but I could've done better. I messed up pretty bad at the end," she commented, clucking her tongue in reprimand at herself.

"Did you? It seemed to me that Qamar simply got the upper hand," Kuei said, confused.

"Exactly. See, the winner of a fight is always the one that makes the second-to-last mistake," Zafirah explained, then ruefully added, "And the loser is whoever makes the _last_ mistake. Guess that was me this time."

"I suppose that does make sense. I'd never thought of it like that before," Kuei remarked, rubbing his chin in consideration.

"Oh, and you've done a whole lotta thinking on the subject, huh?" Basam jibed, elbowing him lightly.

"No, I guess not," Kuei agreed, chuckling sheepishly. He'd read a few texts on the so-called art of war, and they'd all described fighting in much more grandiose tones. Zafirah's explanation made quite a bit of intuitive sense, though. What was a missed block, if not a mistake? What was an attack that didn't find its mark, if not an error?

"Well, I sure won't make that same mistake again, next time," Zafirah said, shaking her head. Then she flashed him a wide smile and added, "Hey, at least I learned a thing or two, right?"

He started to reply but found suddenly that he couldn't get the words out. This smile she wore now was a far cry from the smirks and sardonic grins he'd seen from her thus far. It lit up her whole face, making her brown eyes blaze. His breath caught for a moment, and he hastily smiled back before turning his attention to the next pair of duelists, tapping his fingertip on his knee as he waited for the unprompted surge of his heartbeat to subside. That smile… he wondered if he'd see it again before his time in the desert ran out.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes our final chapter for 2016! I hope you all had an enjoyable New Year’s Eve and that 2017 will be good to us all. And I hope you guys liked the chapter!
> 
> As always, if you have anything to say about the chapter, I’d love to hear your thoughts! Things you liked, questions, suggestions, toss ‘em at me. And, well… I don’t mean to beg, but as I said in the earlier note, this has been a really rough time for me and my motivation is running dry right now. Hearing some feedback on the story, especially now, would really mean a lot to me. No one’s obligated to comment, but if you’re in the mood to do so, please feel free to drop a comment. That’s all, see you guys in 2017!

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah! He got punched in the face. He didn't think that through very well.
> 
> I'm a slow writer and I've been saying this for years, literally, but I'll say it again-- this story will be completed eventually!
> 
> See you in Chapter 2!


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